


Velvet & Lace

by thewaterfalcon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marauders' Era, POV Pansy Parkinson, Time Travel, Time Turner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 43,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11391936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaterfalcon/pseuds/thewaterfalcon
Summary: To Pansy Parkinson, being flung through time is, simply, one of the most irksome instances of her life thus far. With a troublesome Time-Turner enough of a distraction without the added enigma that is Regulus Black, along with the rising threat of Voldemort’s first reign of power darkening the skies above, can Pansy navigate herself in a world that shouldn’t yet be hers to live in?





	1. The Same As It Never Was

* * *

 

 

> _"There's only one thing more precious than our time, and that's who we spend it on."_

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

She landed with an exclaimed “ _Oomph”_ and an internal _Bollocks!_

 

The sensation had been a strange one, to say the least. She recalled a sense of falling, but not one of hitting the ground, because she’d already been on the ground, and yet she was confident she hadn’t actually left that spot...

 

Except... she _had_ left that spot, she must have. She’d _felt_ herself leave the ground, hadn’t she?

 

And then there was the slight matter of the fact she was now lying down.

 

She certainly hadn’t been lying down before.

 

 _Whatever that was,_ Pansy mused, frowning, _it wasn’t pleasant._

 

She rose, shakily, to her feet, her thoughts shifting, first to confusion and then to annoyance, before the two conjoined into a very definite _What in the shitting fuck has just happened?_

 

And she only knew one thing for certain; she didn’t have a bloody clue.

 

Now standing, Pansy slowly drove her head downwards whilst bringing her left hand upwards as a sickening feeling enveloped her shaken frame.

 

And _there it was_ , she realised, sighing through her nose, _there it fucking was._ She glared down at the very obvious reason for her current predicament, nestled snuggly in her palm. It fit so precisely, so _perfectly,_ there, that it took approximately three seconds for Pansy to determine that it was looking that way as if it were deliberate, its sole purpose obviously being to irritate her even more.

 

“Oh, fuck you,” Pansy snapped into her hand, before thrusting the silver, jewel-encrusted Time-Turner haphazardly into the pocket of one of her robes, not quite trusting herself to attempt to fiddle with it anymore. _Fiddling,_ Pansy thought with a grimace as she remembered just how she had come to land herself in this current predicament, _is the root of all evil._

 

For the first time since landing - was that even an apt description? _No, probably not. Appeared?_ Here, wherever _here_ happened to be, Pansy looked around and took stock of her surroundings. Which were, thankfully, the exact same surroundings she had been standing in just beforehand. She was by a very recognisable lake, the greenhouses, she knew, would be just over that slight rise in the terrain to her left. Hogwarts was behind her.

 

She hoped.

 

Sure enough, she let out a sigh coupled with a short _thank fuck_ when the first turret came into view as she turned, relieved to see the achingly familiar sight.

 

 _So,_ Pansy deliberated, _it’s definitely not the_ where _that’s the issue, but the_ when.

 

She began to trudge her way first towards the castle, muttering a myriad of nonsensical expletives under her breath as she did, before, swallowing dryly, she made a split-second, seemingly out of nowhere decision and turned on her heel.

 

She walked in a march, swiftly, arms crossed over her chest, away from the school.

 

Towards Hogsmeade.

 

* * *

 

 

The village, which Pansy had visited for the very first time as a toddler, emanated, to Pansy, a simultaneous very distinct familiarity and a saddening, disparate aura. Whilst this was obviously the same Hogsmeade she knew, it also, very definitely, _wasn’t._

 

The journey hadn’t taken her long. The lane that separated the school from its neighbouring village was a short, half-mile walk. The expanse of grass to her right and the trees on her left provided the same backdrop that Pansy had so often looked upon yet never actually _seen_ before.

 

Until now.

 

 _Now,_ she found herself scrutinising the countryside; the woodland and its neighbouring fields. Wondering if it were the same, or whether her past lack of attention to her surroundings had allowed specific details to pass her by, details that may have helped distinguish, or at least hint to, _when,_ exactly, she was.

 

It was, however, the village itself that gave her the first, heart-stopping, anxiety-inducing clue as to how far she was from her original timeline, from 1998.

 

She had hoped she’d appeared a few weeks out, a month or two at a push, but _this,_ she glanced around, her eyes darting between the Three Broomsticks, to various shops, some of which she didn’t recognise, but all of which looked decidedly _older._

 

_The same as it never was._

 

There were few witches and wizards going about, most older than she, and all looked decidedly _not_ lost in time, as they walked steadily, with purpose; their desired destination firmly in place.

 

Most notably, however, wasn’t the obvious lack of a _I’ve-just-propelled-myself-backwards-through-time-and-don’t-have-a-fucking-clue-how-to-fix-it_ look upon their faces, funnily enough, it was their attire. Pansy’s eyes had widened in spite of herself and her current, undesirable predicament as she watched the Hogsmeade inhabitants pass her by. _Even by wizarding standards, these outfits are vile._  

 

She knew exactly what the unsightly clothes reminded her of, she’d seen pictures of witch and wizard fashions throughout various eras, she and Daphne had poured over various looks and dresses, robes and styles that had captivated the populous at various points in time, and the garments that surrounded her looked sorely familiar to several of those photographs.

 

 _Oh, Merlin,_ she groaned as she asked herself a question she had, up until this point in her life, never envisioned having to ask; _what fucking year is it?_

 

 


	2. Toujours Pur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe PierreJ92 everything and more.

It hadn’t taken her long, all things considered, to work out just what year, exactly, she had landed herself in. 

 

_ Knowledge is power,  _ Pansy informed herself. It would absolutely be a comfort to have the information at hand in order to make a plan to return back 1998. 

How wrong she was. 

The truth of her discovery was not, in any way, shape or form, a comfort. 

_ 19…19 SEVENTY-PISSING-EIGHT?! _

Pansy had always valued the fact that she had, from a young age, mastered the ability to keep a relatively nonplussed expression even when faced with moments of heightened emotional stress. Right now, as she struggled to maintain a regularity to her breathing  — could definitely be classed as a moment of heightened emotional stress  — was possibly the most use she would ever get from this particular ability. 

She allowed herself to lean back against the wall of  _ The Magic Neep _ , the greengrocers that she had managed to scour a copy of  _ The Daily Prophet  _ at. Her gaze lingered skywards at the vast expanse of azure that was currently overhead as she deliberated what to do next. 

Her thoughts of, well, not a lot really, were broken by a strange sensation against the outside of her right thigh. 

Pansy blinked, puzzled by the vibrations that seemed to be growing steadily stronger by the second, and plunged her hand into the soft folds of her cloak. 

Her hand clamped around the cause of the offending quivers and slowly lifted the Time-Turner from her robes before darting her eyes to various points in her surroundings. Time-Turners weren’t, Pansy knew, exactly legal and it certainly wouldn’t do to get arrested having only been existing in this time for less than an hour. 

Pansy quickly ducked into a nearby alleyway, hoping that no one happened to be watching her. It was quite one thing to attempt to not look suspicious in the middle of the street, but entirely another to do so in a shady alley. With her back to Hogsmeade’s main street and her body as pressed against the side of  _ The Magic Neep  _ as she was able, Pansy brought her hand close to her face to inspect the troublesome object. 

Having not had much in the way of interactions with Time-Turners in her life, Pansy’s entire knowledge of the objects, which was, admittedly, limited at best, came from various pieces of the taught information that most pureblood children are taught before attending Hogwarts. 

Pansy swallowed, and examined the Time-Turner, turning it this way and that between her fingers. Ideally, she would have wished to keep her movements careful, the idea of suddenly ending up in a Hogsmeade  à la  1958 was not a pleasant one, however, this was a tricky notion to undertake, as Pansy hadn’t the faintest idea what action had prompted her sudden leap through time. 

It was small, petite enough to sit comfortably in the palm of her hand whilst allowing her fingers to encase it almost entirely. An hourglass sat in the centre, encased in a golden circle that was dotted with tiny, cut-out stars. The sand within the hourglass was jet black and seemed to be shifting, somewhat haphazardly, in no discernable pattern. 

Rather worryingly, or so Pansy-assumed, it still appeared to be vibrating. 

Time-Turners, Pansy knew, were supposed to be used to travel back and forwards in time no more than a few hours. She’d worried she’d somehow crossed a dangerous line when she expected she’d travelled a few weeks, a month, perhaps, but  _ twenty-sodding-years _ ? Pansy was fairly certain she should have, at the very least, ceased to exist.

So why hadn’t she?

Bringing it even closer to her face, Pansy pulled her wand from her pocket and cast a hasty  _ Lumos.  _ Using the newly-created wand light to scrutinise the object more, Pansy frowned as she examined every inch of the artefact. None of which gave her any clues to its workings. 

Relatively confident she had noticed, despite still being none-the-wiser to, every part of the Time-Turner, Pansy began to lower both it and her wand, when, as though from nowhere, she noticed a very brief shift in the shiny, golden surface. 

It was slight, and had she lowered the Turner a second sooner, she more than likely would have missed it. 

Pansy brought it to her face and recast the  _ Lumos  _ and watched as, at first, indiscernible patterns appeared just above the hourglass, before she realised they were beginning to create letters. 

Stifling a gasp, Pansy couldn’t have wrenched her eyes from the newly-appeared letters had she tried. Where, beforehand, the gold had looked smooth and unscathed, two words now sat, comfortably, in a slight curve that followed the top of the timepiece, as though they’d always been there.  _ Which _ , Pansy mused,  _ they probably had _ .  

The words weren’t written in English, and were, in fact, French. And although Pansy did not speak French, she did know the exact translation and meaning of the letters she now looked upon, it was something most children of pureblood descent would. 

“Always pure,” Pansy whispered aloud as she ran the pad of her thumb over the newly-revealed script. 

_ Toujours pur. _

Pansy blinked as new waves of confusion washed over her. She had no more knowledge of what she was doing in the Seventies and how she had somehow survived meddling with magic that she knew to be unstable at best, and even less idea as to what her next move here should be. She had now been gifted with one tiny, albeit incredibly baffling, truth. And, Pansy deliberated, she was certainly in no position to pass up any information, no matter how seemingly insignificant or how riddled with even more questions than answers it happened to be. 

Now, at least, she knew one thing for sure. 

_ This Time-Turner belongs to the Black family.  _


	3. Easily Missable yet Captivating

She wasn’t entirely sure why, but the realisation of the Time-Turner’s origin, if it even did hint towards its origin - its ownership, at least, was a jarring one. 

 

She had heard the stories and read the headlines, along with the rest of the magical community, that the Ministry’s store of the time travel instruments had been destroyed or at the very least, damaged, in some bizarre incident that nobody quite understood, only that it had involved Potter, his friends, and some Death Eaters.

 

There weren’t  _ supposed  _ to be any working Time-Turners in Britain. 

 

_ Therefore _ , Pansy mused,  _ this one most likely exists outside of the Ministry’s knowledge.  _

 

She wasn’t sure whether the thought gave her a feeling of comfort or discontent. 

 

All the old pureblood families held a number of ancient, magical artifacts that either belonged to, or had simply been stolen or obtained somehow by an ancestor of that particular house. Pansy, the current last in the Parkinson line, would be due to inherit Parkinson-owned items on her eighteenth birthday.  _ Or _ , Pansy thought sadly,  _ I will be, if I exist.  _

 

Yet, she had never heard of a family-owned Time-Turner and was fairly confident that none of the Parkinson family vaults contained one. 

 

Why the Black family owned a Time-Turner with its motto magically written upon it, was a mystery. 

 

Why  _ she,  _ a Parkinson, had come to be in possession of it, was a greater one. 

 

It was still nestled, Pansy tried to ignore just how comfortably, within her palm when the strange vibrations began to increase dramatically. Pansy frowned, having grown up within the magical community, she was no stranger to seemingly everyday - not that a meddlesome Time-Turner could be even remotely classed as  _ everyday _ , objects suddenly begin to act in bizarre ways, but even still, she eyed the Turner suspiciously, even in spite of the odd feeling, which was unsettling at best, given her current circumstances, that the Time-Turner’s vibrations were there for a helpful purpose, and would most likely not bring her to any harm.  

 

For a small moment, nothing untoward happened, the Time-Turner remained still and unchanged in her hand and, had the sensation not started to make her hand feel an unpleasant numbness, Pansy might have wondered whether she was imagining the vibrations, until, through narrowed eyes, she noticed the specs. 

 

They were tiny but numerous, easily missable yet captivating, golden bobs of light, and were made, Pansy instantly knew, of pure magic. 

 

She watched as they weaved and spun around the Time-Turner, they moved with purpose, as though with their own agenda. Pansy wondered what it could be, her mouth opening more with each second. The oddity that was the unexpected light show ended with a gasp and a compass, the former from Pansy and the latter from the shape the specs had made. 

 

They had, indeed, fashioned themselves into a fully readable compass, which both encompassed and surrounded the circumference of the Time-Turner, somehow managing to perfectly meld themselves around the shape of Pansy’s hand, despite her not moving it, or being able to feel them achieve this. 

 

The makeshift magical compass, Pansy soon realised, obviously did not work as a regular, Muggle one, not that this was a particularly surprising revelation. Instead, where the prominent  _ N  _ would usually be placed, instead featured what Pansy assumed was a rune of some sort, though its meaning she was entirely unsure of. 

 

It may not work exactly as a regular compass does, but Pansy knew the basis was the same. It was created, though Merlin only knew how, for the purpose of pointing one’s direction. 

 

And pointed it did, and so, with very little options to call her own, Pansy followed the golden arrow, ending up outside  _ Dogweed and Deathcap _ with very little idea of how the Herbology suppliers could offer her any kind of solution or plan.

 

As it turned out, it may not have been the shop, itself, that was the Time-Turner-Compass’s destination, but rather what, or to be more exact,  _ who,  _ existed within. 

 

Pansy entered the darkened store tentatively, stuffing the Time-Turner back into the pocket of her robes after, upon crossing the threshold, the specs disappeared entirely, and took a second to take stock of her new surroundings.    
  
_ Dogweed and Deathcap  _ still existed in the nineties, and Pansy noted that it changes very little in the following twenty years. She examined a few of the shelves near the entrance, unsure of what her next actions should be, or even why she had been led here in the first place, when an achingly familiar voice, uttered worryingly close to her ear, interrupted every and any thought she had. 

 

“I think you should come with me.”


	4. Rife with a Demanding Air

Pansy’s hand groped, fruitlessly, for her wand. It wouldn’t do much good, she knew, considering the jolt of pain that had flown through her spine, where she could feel the tip of her mystery visitor’s wand rammed directly into the small of her back. 

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The voice was female, oddly familiar, yet, just like  _ Dogweed and Deathcap,  _ and indeed like Hogsmeade itself, it was also laced with an unnerving unfamiliarity that Pansy couldn’t quite place. 

 

She wasn’t sure whether the fact she was certain she knew this person was a help or a hindrance. She hoped it was the former.

 

Pansy swallowed, she wasn’t exactly easily spooked,  _ per se, _ but this particular scenario, rife with the unfamiliar, was unsettling. Nonetheless, she relented with another swallow and halted the search for her own wand, before breathing a long, steady breath through her nose and turning around. 

 

She had expected to feel a slight recognition when she looked upon the awaiting face, a moment or two, perhaps, of a frustrating perplexity where she struggled to place whatever youthful version of a face that was known to her, but not quite. 

 

What she wasn’t expecting...was to find herself staring into the scrutinising blue eyes of someone Pansy knew very well. 

 

“Oh,” Pansy stammered, “this is...this is  _ actually  _ a good thing. Thank Merlin.”

 

“Is it now? And why would that be?” Narcissa’s wand was now touching the fabric covering Pansy’s naval, and her brow was furrowed as she regarded the witch she would one day come to protect and nurture, somewhere between a mother figure and a sister-like one. 

 

“Narcissa,” Pansy breathed, fighting the bizarre urge to laugh at the way the youthful Narcissa’s eyes widened at Pansy’s knowledge of her name. 

 

“I think,  _ perhaps, _ ” she added, cooly, “it would be best to continue this in private,  _ don’t you?” _

 

Pansy nodded, animatedly, and found herself ushered rather ungraciously from the shop; the tip of Narcissa’s wand dictating her direction with an unpleasant point stabbing into Pansy’s back.

 

Once they were stood upon the cobbles of Hogsmeade, and Pansy felt herself stiffen as though hit with some kind of lower-level  _ Petrificus Totalus. _ Her movements were stilted and wooden, and she held no chance of using her wand. She became aware that Narcissa’s wand had left her back, only for the older witch to place a perfectly manicured hand around Pansy’s upper arm. “I’m going to side-along you to my home,  _ don’t  _ try anything.”

 

Pansy attempted, once again, fruitlessly, to shift her arms. “You know I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”

 

She didn’t miss the trace of a smirk on Narcissa’s younger features. The Malfoy matriarch had always been beautiful and polished; Pansy remembered only one instance where any of Narcissa’s hair was out of place and considering that instance involved a battle that ended a war, Narcissa could be forgive for the indiscretion against her otherwise perfect appearance. But, even still, here, in what Pansy assumed must have been her early-to-mid-twenties, Narcissa’s beauty was captivating in a whole different light. Radiance emanated from her in a constant pulse, as though she dulled everything else in the vicinity, simply by existing within it, and yet there was something else to the elegant, blonde witch, something Pansy couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

 

“Okay,” Narcissa spoke as she gripped Pansy arm tighter, “get ready.”

 

Pansy grimaced.

 

The jerk of apparition still took her by surprise despite the fact she had expected it. Pansy simply did not get along with side-along. Apparition, when she did so herself, was fine, but there was something about not being the one in control, that Pansy had always found daunting — this time was being exception. 

 

They had landed, Pansy realised, in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor,  _ meaning Narcissa had already married Lucius.  _ She would recognise the grand room anywhere, having been visiting the mansion since her early childhood,  _ which hasn’t happened yet,  _ she thought, mouth suddenly dry. 

 

“Okay,” Narcissa began, interrupting Pansy’s thoughts, “I am going to release the bind and let go of you. If you do  _ anything  _ at all, I will curse you so hard you’ll be able to do nothing but whimper for a week, do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” Pansy, rather uncharacteristically squeaked, although more in awe than fear.  _ Damn, Narcissa. You don’t fuck around.  _

 

The releasing of her bind, and Narcissa’s hand leaving her arm, was a greater relief than Pansy had realised it would be. “Thanks,” she offered, determined to prove to what was possibly the only, if very, very loose definition of the word, ally she had here that she wasn’t a threat in any way. 

 

“Who are you?” Narcissa’s voice had softened a touch once she seemed to acknowledge that Pansy had no intention of attacking her, but it was still rife with a demanding air, “and  _ why  _ was I suddenly overtaken with a strong urge to find, and help you?”

 

Pansy frowned at the last portion of Narcissa’s words, and swallowed, seeing no rhyme or reason of why she should keep any secrets from the woman. “I don’t know about the  _ strong urge,  _ but my name is Pansy Parkinson.”

 

“Parkinson, as in Eddard?”

 

“Yes, well sort of,” Pansy began, attempting to choose her words carefully, in truth Eddard Parkinson had passed away a few months before Pansy was born, which was, she realised with a jolt, if she stayed in this time, at the end of next year,  _ what the bloody fuck happens if I can’t get back before I’m born? _  “I’m from the future.” 

 

Narcissa blinked as her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “Well,  _ that, _ I was not expecting.”

 

“You’re telling me,” Pansy mumbled, and regaled the story of how a friend had handed her a Time-Turner, purposely leaving out the part that revealed that her  _ friend  _ was, in fact, the woman standing in front of her’s son. “Apparently it was a gift from his-” 

 

Pansy cut her own words off with a gasp, having forgotten the majority of the dialogue she and her friends had shared before she was shoved, ungraciously, back in time.

 

“A gift from his  _ what? _ ” Narcissa pried, clearly taken aback by Pansy’s apparent shock over who indeed had gifted her the Time-Turner.

 

From elsewhere in the Manor, she could hear a door slam and the beginnings of a number of footsteps that echoed from the house’s hardwood floors. 

 

Pansy breathed a sigh through her nose as she looked into the eyes of the woman who would, for an unbeknownst reason, at some point in sixteen years time, send her back twenty years in the past. “It was a gift from his mother.”


	5. Mystery Other

 

They stood for approximately ten seconds, neither speaking, before the closed doors of the drawing room were flung open and Pansy was granted her first look at a mid-twenties Lucius Malfoy. 

 

Pansy had been acquainted with Lucius a fair amount in her life. She’d seen him at his best, as an imposing, successful businessman and, though the thought made her feel slightly ill, follower of Voldemort, and she’d seen him at his worst, still able to remember the day Draco had informed her that it was _clear_ _the Dark Lord no longer holds an iota of respect for my father._ She’d seen Lucius only once that summer, once had been enough. She’d never particularly cared for the man any more than the fathers of her other friends, but the image of a clearly broken Lucius Malfoy would not easily leave her. 

 

 _This_ version of Lucius, however, was far more reminiscent of the former, he emanated an impressive and imposing air even as he stood, unmoving, in the doorway. His eyes, however, were a whole different story and had taken it upon themselves to whizz between the paused Narcissa and Pansy as though the inside of their owner’s head possessed a broken carousel, eventually settling on Pansy, an odd expression having overtaken his features.

 

“Narcissa?” 

 

Pansy’s eyes flickered between each of the Malfoys in turn, before she attempted, rather unsuccessfully, considering Narcissa’s eyes were unwaveringly gazing at her husband, to catch the younger Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes. Pansy had to admit to herself, if no one else, that the moment slightly worried her, considering Narcissa was the closest thing she had to, well,  _ anything,  _ in this time. Mostly, however, she felt a curiosity as to how the dynamic of the Malfoy’s early days of marriage in this strange situation would play itself out. 

 

As it turned out, she would have to wait a while longer, as the appearance of one other, one whose footsteps had been so considerably quieter than Lucius’s, to the point Pansy had barely heard them at all, interrupted the stalwart. 

 

He appeared in the doorway, just as Lucius had done, and at first the latter masked the former’s appearance almost entirely and Pansy was none the wiser as to their identity.

 

Pansy was grateful when this newcomer drew Lucius’s attention from her, and it was only after a small, hushed conversation between the two, that Lucius’s pose shifted slightly, and the other came into view. 

 

He looked around Pansy’s age, shorter than Lucius by around a half a foot, but where Lucius was tall and thin and willowy, this other’s frame was somewhat more stockily built, still fairly thin but a touch broader, fitting into his shorter stature well. 

 

Pansy’s eyes washed over him as she wracked her memories for an older version of this face that she may be able to put a name to, for some recognition of his features; they were handsome enough, with a mop of wavy hair as black as the night framing a pale, round face.

 

His eyes, especially from this far away, looked as dark as his hair and they were set deep, making the small, downward twitch of his brow when he first locked onto Pansy particularly expressive. He looked just as perplexed by her identity as she was about his. 

 

He was no one she knew from the nineties, that much she was sure of, and the knowledge of this made her swallow, dryly, and shift her own gaze from him. 

 

“Lucius, dear, and Regulus,” Narcissa began, breaking the silence that had quickly surrounded the four, “I’d like you both to meet Pansy, a... _ dear friend,  _ who will be staying with us for a few days.”

 

“Dear friend-,” she heard Lucius begin, but she did not hear the remainder of the conversation. Regulus, that’s what Narcissa had said, and Pansy realised, all of a sudden, that she knew  _ exactly _ who the mystery other was. 

 

She knew of one Regulus, and it seemed all too coincidental that this...this barely a man would be any other. 

 

Pansy swallowed again, panicked by the sudden departure of her abilities to breathe correctly or stand up unaided. Only one thought was present in her mind as she forced her eyes to stare at him once more, and there it stayed, even after she was unable to look at him any longer, even after everything went dark. 

 

_ How much longer do you have left to live? _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well helllllloooo there, Regulus! I'm sorry this one was so short, but you'll only have to wait until Monday to see what happens next!


	6. How Disconcerting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Pierre, Sabs and Haba - thank you for keeping me sane, for late night chats and for generally being wonderful.

_ “-just won’t do.” _

 

The words broke through the darkness that surrounded Pansy like the first snap of thunder. She seemed unable to see, move or physically feel anything; there was just the darkness, and the words of her companions, but despite the fact that she probably  _ should  _ be worried about the fact that the blackness surrounding her did so in such a definite manner, which was encompassing and exhausting but oddly calming, all at once, worry seemed to be the last thing from her, albeit rather fizzy, mind. 

 

_ “-could levitate her.” _

 

_ “Might as well, this room will-” _

 

Each new, confusing and partial sentence jolted her, but only inwardly; her body seemed intent on making the transition into a statue a permanent change. 

 

_ “-sure she doesn’t need a Healer, she’s pale as-.” _

 

The words may as well have been spoken across an ocean and in a different tongue, for all the sense Pansy made of them. Logically speaking, she  _ was _ able to decipher what the words she could hear meant, considering they were spoken in English and within, presumably, a nearby vicinity, but yet a stubborn, unsure part of her mind seemed intent on making her understanding of not just  _ what _ the words were saying, but what they may happen to actually mean, a stark difficulty. 

 

_ “-that’s mighty rich, coming from you.” _

 

She knew those voices, she was sure of that much, but from where, or who they were, she couldn’t grasp, as though the information was water she was attempting to keep within her palm. 

 

_ “I’m not saying it’s a  _ bad  _ thing, I mean...it’s  _ clearly  _ working fo-” _

 

_ “-she’s currently unconscious.” _

 

Pansy became dimly aware that  _ something  _ had changed around her, and it took her a moment or two to realise that the something in question involved a surface; instead of the uninteresting  _ nothing _ she realised she had felt previously, she was now fairly confident that what she was now dimly aware of beneath her, was a bed. 

 

And now that was established, if her eyes would just open.

 

_ “Is she really, I hadn’t noticed.” _

 

The spoken words, that Pansy had established were being said somewhere above her head, seemed to be steadily gaining clarity as she understood what was said now with little effort, at least. Moving, on the other hand, was still, apparently, alluding her. 

 

_ If I can...just…move...my hand. _

 

At first, it was fruitless as she lay, seemingly paralysed, but slowly, the mechanisms of her fingers began to return to her. Managing one twitch of her index finger successfully, Pansy felt herself repeat the action. It was minuscule, but it felt like a triumph. 

 

“Ciss? I think she’s waking up,” she heard, and with the realisation of just why she recognised the voices hitting her like a tonne of bricks, Pansy’s whole body involuntarily twitched. “Shit, did you see that?” Pansy heard, and this time there was no part of her conscious, sub or otherwise, wondering who had accompanied her here. 

 

“Do  _ not  _ call me ‘Ciss’.

 

_ Narcissa Malfoy; mother of Draco...who isn’t yet born.  _

 

“Because now’s really the time.”

 

_ Regulus Black; dead man walking.  _

 

Her eyes snapped open as the bile rose to her throat, her ability to move freely once more coming back to her just in time for Pansy to rise herself to sitting as she heaved over the side of the bed, her knuckles as white as the crisp linen on which she had been placed.

 

“Woah!”

 

“Oh, oh gosh! Brindle! Brindle, bring towels and a basin! NOW!”

 

“N-no,” Pansy began, her face felt hot as the feeling of sickness began to subside, “I think I’m okay.”

 

Narcissa frowned. “Are you sure?” 

 

“Yeah,” Pansy nodded, noticing the way Narcissa waved off a bemused looking House Elf, Brindle, Pansy presumed.

 

The clearing of a throat brought forth Pansy’s attention, having momentarily forgotten about Regulus. “All that time travel, it’s fucked up your insides.”

 

Pansy felt her eyes widen at his words and she snapped her head to meet Narcissa’s eyes. 

“No need to look like that,” Narcissa chuckled, “he’s trustworthy.”

 

_ Isn’t he a Death Eater? _

 

Pansy’s gaze reverted itself back towards Regulus, who shot her a small smile, before uttering, “I can keep a secret.”

 

She nodded in response and attempted to relax her frame as she looked around the room they were in for the first time. Pansy realised with a small gasp that she recognised it, this was the room Narcissa always insisted that Pansy stayed in when visiting Draco. Its decor was grand but not as ornate as the drawing room. The furniture was made of a dark oak and the large, four-poster bed had a comfortable firmness. 

 

“Alright,” she answered Regulus, choosing, perhaps rashly, to believe him. Turning her attention back to Narcissa, Pansy asked, “What about Lucius?” 

 

“Oh, don’t you worry about him,” she replied, sweeping her hand backwards in a casual gesture. “You can stay in this room, for as long as you need.”

 

Pansy breathed through her nose, “I appreciate it, but I should really work out how to get back…” she frowned, trailing off.

 

“To the future?” Regulus interjected with a grin. 

 

Pansy snorted as the weight of the situation pressed down onto her once more. “Fuck me! Yeah.”

 

“Be careful, Pansy, Regulus will take you up on that.”

 

“Be happy to!” Regulus exclaimed.

 

Pansy sat up, nibbling her bottom lip as her eyes drifted over the younger Black sibling, she hadn’t noticed much about him apart from his face when he and Lucius had arrived in the drawing room, but now, something else entirely caught her attention. She raised one eyebrow. “Well, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. I  _ do not  _ fuck anyone that actually chooses to wear a  _ velvet jacket, _ ” she said the last two words with an exaggerated disdain. 

 

Narcissa’s laughter rang through the air around them at the same time as Regulus’s cries of indignation at Pansy’s insult of his attire and somehow, despite the unknown, mysterious and frankly, downright frightening, leap through time she’d made just a few hours earlier, Pansy felt herself relaxing in her present company. 

 

_ How...disconcerting. _

 

“It really is awful!” Narcissa said, through laughs, at Regulus.

 

“Don’t you start,” he retorted, “this was a present.”

 

Narcissa pursed her lips as she attempted, only somewhat successfully, to refrain from laughing more and looked at Pansy, “I bet it was from his mother.”

 

“Yes...a  _ present  _ from my mother,” Regulus replied, but his voice was drowned out by the combined cackling laughter that had overtaken both Narcissa and Pansy. 

  
  



	7. Self-Preservation

Had Pansy asked herself, upon arrival to the seventies, whether less than twelve hours after her untimely jaunt through two decades, she would find herself not only in a good humour but with a strange curiosity that she probably wouldn't have admitted to herself to learn more about this strange world, and its inhabitants, she would have called herself a fool.

Narcissa was, as Pansy had always known, an emulation of class and poise and pureblood expectations. The customs and traditions coexisted with her, as though they, and she, were one and the same, and yet,  _this_ Narcissa, who openly admitted herself that she still hadn't the faintest clue as to why she had felt compelled to find Pansy in Dogweed and Deathcap, was different. Whether it simply be youth and the mere fact that she and Pansy were much closer in age in this time, or the lack of parental responsibilities, Pansy didn't know, but what she did know was that this Narcissa was a breath of fresh air, an air that was humorous and full of cheek and innuendos, and who commanded Lucius Malfoy as though he were a puppy dog.

She had known Narcissa Malfoy for years, but now, in this time, she knew that she was being let into another Narcissa. Her marriage licence may call her a Malfoy, but this woman, Pansy instinctively knew, was still Narcissa Black.

It had only been a day and Narcissa's company had already made the idea of not going back, not  _appealing,_ exactly, that would be preposterous, but with a slightly heavier heart than she would have had otherwise. Not that it particularly mattered, however, as Pansy was stuck under the Time Turner's stark and disobedient nature. No matter what she, Narcissa or Regulus attempted to do to the Turner, magically or otherwise, the artefact lay still and redundant, regardless.

"I'm sure it's just mocking us," Regulus exclaimed, "look at this—Accio Time-Turner."

Nothing happened. Both Pansy and Narcissa's brows were furrowed.

"I'm telling you, this thing has a mind of its own."

Pansy couldn't help but believe he wasn't wrong.

_But why? What does that mean? Can I never go home?_

Regulus breathed through his nose before gazing, nonchalantly, out of a large pair of windows. A squashy window seat sat beneath the panes that were framed by a pair of thick, purple drapes. Pansy's eyes followed the direction of his gaze and looked out over the grounds of Malfoy Manor, grounds that she grew up playing in, grounds where she first played hide and seek, first flew and had her first kiss with, she gulped, thinking of how the woman who had taken her in hadn't yet had the son who would be responsible for so many of Pansy's firsts.

Pansy looked downwards, towards the bedcovers that she climbed back on, the thought of Draco was a somewhat painful one, and so Pansy's brought her attention into the present and looked at Regulus. He stood around a foot taller than her short stature and despite the offending velvet jacket that, if truth be told, Pansy wished he would take off, its mere ugly presence distracting her, actually looked quite good considering the decade she was currently in and the odd fashion trends she knew that it held.

He was presentable and well-spoken, just like Narcissa. Their shared family wasn't apparent upon first glance, but the more time that passed, Pansy found herself noticing similarities in their mannerisms and expressions. The Black blood, as  _always pure_ as it was, obviously ran strong.

* * *

After Pansy had regained most of her self and composure after her collapse, Narcissa informed Brindle to bring the three food and beverages and every tomb and text the manor held that featured information relating to time magic.

It had, so far, been fruitless. Pansy frowned as she pushed a few wayward strands of hair from her eyes and found eyes drifting towards Regulus. He was sitting a few metres from her, whereas she was cross-legged near the pillows of the bed, a book open over her knees, he was perched near the bottom, turning the Time Turner—that had his family's motto scrawled across it, between his fingers.

As though realising she was watching, his head turned suddenly and in an instant, was facing her. When he spoke, his voice was softer, less full of the bravado it had exhibited before. "Are you alright?"

Pansy shrugged and forced what she could of her Slytherin self forth,  _self-preservation,_ she reminded herself. Embracing her situation, along with Narcissa' hospitality and friendship, at the very least, lay in her best interests. "I have to be."

"I suppose," Regulus replied with a snort, before he brought his hand upwards, running one pale hand through his dark locks, the Turner remained in his other hand. "Not to put a dampener on your hopes, but I don't think the answer is…" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards the ancient text on rare magic in Pansy's lap. The section on Time Magic had been infuriatingly short, and Pansy was sure that her own limited knowledge on the subject was greater than what one Ichabod Hyperyl seemed to know on the subject. Pansy didn't answer him.

"If you want my two knuts," Regulus began, "from what I gather about Time Magic, which isn't a lot mind, is that  _usually,_ things will happen because they already have."

Pansy blinked. "What?" she blurted, a tad harsher than she had meant.

"Well, look at it this way, here, you don't technically exist."

"Oh, well  _that_ clears it up, thanks," Pansy replied with an eye roll.

"No, think about it, you haven't been born yet."

"I  _will_ be, in about a year, or I  _hope_ so, anyway," she wrinkled her nose in confusion and concern.

"I think you will be, because you had to be born in order for it to be that you were sent back here."

"But, I can't stay here, there can't be two of me."

"No, I don't think you will. In  _some_ time, it's already happened. And I think it happened for a reason, you were sent back twenty years, that isn't your regular time jump. I think you're exactly where you're supposed to be."

Pansy frowned as she absent-mindedly nibbled her thumb nail. "But...why?"

"Merlin knows, but this thing," he held out the Time-Turner, "is vibrating like a bitch and has been since I started talking. I think I'm right."

"It vibrated before it turned into the compass, which pointed me to where Narcissa threatened me."

"Someone say my name?" Narcissa said as Regulus laughed. Pansy looked up as Narcissa crossed the room, having just entered through the door, a number of garments folded over her outstretched left arm, "For you," she nodded at Pansy as she placed the clothes atop the bedclothes, "and pick something now, I know I could use a drink so goodness knows, you must."

"Sounds good," Regulus clapped and rubbed his hands together.

"Yes, it does rather, only you, dear cousin, have a meeting, or had you forgotten, this evening."

Regulus grimaced and checked his wristwatch. "Shit, I'd better go, actually. He looked at each female in turn, "have fun, girls."

Pansy raised her hand in goodbye as she watched Regulus leave the room, after flashing her a wide, comforting smile that stretched all the way to his eyes.

"Oh," Narcissa's eyebrows raised upwards, "we're going to."

"Narcissa," Pansy began, "I can't accept all…" she pointed towards the pile of clothes, "of these, they must be worth hundreds of galleons."

"Hmm, try  _thousands,_ darling," Narcissa replied absent-mindedly, "and yes, you can, and will." She paused, frowning. "I don't know why or how you got here, but I just have this  _feeling_ that I need to, well not  _look after_ you, per se, but make sure you're alright. I can't explain it, but I know it's real, and that I need to."

Pansy swallowed, she wasn't watching Narcissa, but instead her gaze had drifted to the Time-Turner that Regulus had left atop the duvet, and even from a few metres distance, she could hear a sound that was both distinct and odd, a vibration of sorts, that told her only one thing, and as baffling and unlikely as it was, she knew it was true.

_The Time-Turner agrees with Narcissa._


	8. Rather be Safe, than Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to SandraSempra...thank you for binging and being amazing and for not judging my love of a certain turian too harshly!

One thing that Pansy had continually prided herself on, throughout her teenage years, was her ability to drink the entirety of her friendship group under the table. She’d always considered this somewhat impressive, if incredibly unhealthy talent to be, well, that - a talent. 

 

That was until Pansy got drunk with a young Narcissa Malfoy. 

The first half of the evening, Pansy recalled the next morning, was pleasant enough. Narcissa had led the majority of the conversation, something that Pansy was used to, as Daphne had a tendency to take the lead in almost any conversation the friends held, and so Pansy had no qualms about allowing Narcissa to talk a lot more than she. 

She had learnt all about the Malfoy’s wedding, and more specifically the wedding night, which, considering it wasn’t the wedding night of just a new friend, but also of one of her oldest friend’s parents, Pansy had had to down more than one shot during that particular, lengthy anecdote. Narcissa had gone into a lot of detail about the politics of the differing sides of the war. Truth be told, she’d never thought too much about it before, instead choosing to blissfully ignore the fact that most of her family and friend’s families had been involved somewhat with Voldemort. The way Narcissa talked of the past - or, Pansy supposed, the current climate - was of a simple matter of survival: no more and no less. 

“There’s a reason that most of us were Slytherins, Pansy - you are a Slytherin, aren’t you?”

“Hiss hiss,” Pansy replied, lifting her constantly refilling itself glass in the air before taking another swig. 

“We value not dying. Sometimes you do what you need to, and you bide your time there. It may not be particularly brave, or noble, but it’s safe, and as much as  _ Albus Dumbledore, _ ” she spoke the name with an air of disdain, _ “ _ would probably hex us just for saying so; I’d rather be safe, than dead.” she stated, as though it were the most simple thing in the world.

Pansy nodded, she understood. “Self-preservation.”

Raising her glass to clink against Pansy’s, “It beats dying,” Narcissa said with a snort. 

Taking another drink, Pansy decided to ask the thing she’d been holding off all night, “What’s the deal with Regulus?”

“Why’s that?” Narcissa asked with an annoyingly false tone of innocence. 

Pansy blinked. “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly. 

Narcissa shot her a knowing look before answering. “How he was today, when it was just us, is different to how he is with the others,” she began, her smile faltering, “I’m the only one he really lets his guard down with, and, I suppose, the opposite is true for me also.” Narcissa glanced around the bar and Pansy noticed her cast some sort of muffling charm so stealthily she would have missed the wand movement had she blinked. Continuing, Narcissa’s voice was lower now. “He despises the world the way it is, with  _ him  _ ruling us, murdering and raping and torturing, as much as I do, but he stays because, like me, he is smart, again, it isn’t brave, and we both know that, but we’re both Blacks, well, I’m now a Malfoy, but the same rule applies - and with the exception of Andromeda and Sirius, who will be lucky to not be killed off by the end of the year - Blacks and Malfoys do as they’re told and obey, Regulus as a Death Eater and I, as a housewife and at some point, mother to the new Malfoy heir.”

“That’s...sad,” Pansy replied, not for the first time. She swallowed heavily as she remembered similar conversations from another life, not about Regulus Black, but Draco Malfoy, and now, just as she had then, she understood.  

Narcissa shot Pansy the smallest ghost of a smile, that disappeared as quick as it had come. “Perhaps one day it won’t be.”

_ It is...for you,  _ Pansy thought, trying not to think of the fact that the world would never be less sad for Regulus Black. 

During the second half of the evening, Pansy’s memory was fuzzier to a point, the point at which they had returned, Pansy giggling in a very un-Pansy-like fashion, to the Manor, where they’d been met by a grumpy-looking Lucius and the keen, amused expression that belonged to Regulus. 

“Darling!” Narcissa exclaimed with a soft hiccough at the sight of her husband. It was only at that point that Narcissa was truly showing signs of intoxication. Pansy’s drunkenness, on the other hand, had peaked only a few short hours into the night and had been fed a seventies version of a sober-up potion on at least two occasions, unlike Narcissa. From what Pansy’s dodgy memory granted her, she had the distinct impression that the older witch had remained relatively well put-together for the entirety of the evening. Until now, and from the look in Narcissa’s eyes, when the prospect of having some passion-filled alone time with her husband was a possibility, Narcissa was beginning to look ever so slightly tipsy. 

“You’ll be okay with Reg for company, won’t you Pansy?” Narcissa asked, and not caring to listen for an answer, began to walk towards Lucius, the front of whose robes were suddenly bunched between manicured fingernails, which Narcissa used similarly to a leash to direct her husband from the drawing room. 

“Sure,” Pansy answered and, as her eyes met Regulus’s, she burst into another fit of drunken giggles. “Will you be my company,  _ Reg? _ ”

Rolling his eyes, Regulus walked a few steps and sank into a nearby couch and with a raise of his eyebrows. Pansy watched him patting the seat cushion in the space next to him. “Sure... _ Pans. _ ”

All the breath she held seemed to suddenly leave her body. “Pans,” she repeated, automatically, the word lacing its way past her own lips as though she were calling for a ghost. 

In a way, she was. 

She wasn’t sure when, exactly, she’d started to cry, but she was sure of the exact moment that she first felt Regulus Black’s arms encase her, sure of the point she pressed her torso tightly into his, the contact a confusing mix of comfort and terror, and sobbed against his chest. 

She was trying, so hard, to embrace the strange hand she’d been dealt, the jaunt through time that should, if the laws of time magic are to be believed, have killed her. 

And yet, it hadn’t killed her, and Pansy had no idea why.

But that also brought up the fact she was trying hard to ignore, that she had no idea about anything else, either. Would she make it back? Was she even supposed to? Would she see her friends again, as her age and not the newborns they would soon exist here as? Would she ever hear Daphne, or Draco, or Blaise or Theo call her Pans again?

It took several moments of quiet crying for Pansy to compose herself enough to declare, “This is highly embarrassing,” and pull away,  _ as nice as Regulus’s arms had felt - No! Stop that, Pansy!  _ Before walking to the couch the Regulus had sat on initially, and slumping down herself. 

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Regulus offered kindly, “you’ve had a...long day.”

Pansy snorted as she tried, frantically, to vanish the mixed streams of eyeliner and mascara she was sure had made unflattering tracks down her cheeks. “That’s one word for it.”

She watched Regulus take his seat again, this time beside Pansy, who kicked off her shoes and drew her legs up, curling them under her, catlike, and turned herself to face him. He leant back against the grey cushions and let out a breath before turning his head towards her. 

“You okay?” he asked.

Swallowing, Pansy’s first instinct was to lie.  _ Yes, of course,  _ she should snap, as though the mere thought that Pansy Parkinson could be anything but okay was simply preposterous, but Pansy knew there was little point in following her gut feeling, considering he’d just witnessed her crying her eyes out. And so, she took the only other reasonable path she could think to, she told him the truth. 

“Nope.”   
  
“I’m sorry...I didn’t-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Pansy interjected, ruder than she had intended.

“Want to talk about it?”

She realised in that moment that she really,  _ really  _ didn’t. “No, there’s no point.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows again, “I hear it helps, talking I mean.”

Pansy scoffed. “There are literally millions of other things we could talk about, things that won’t make me act like a snivelling hufflepuff.”

It was Regulus’s turn to snort, but she was grateful when he humoured her, “Okay, what would you like to talk about?”

Pansy deliberated for a moment and attempted to ignore the soft fluttering that crept into her stomach as she answered. “You.”

“Me?”

“I want to know about you, Regulus Black.”

“I’m assuming we don’t know each other...in your time I mean?”

Pansy felt a tug at both the corners of both her mouth and heart. Keeping her expression as deadpan as she was able. “No, we don’t.”

He shot her a smile that felt like an arrow hitting her gut. Pushing the feeling aside as best she could, Pansy focussed her eyes on Regulus’s as he spoke with a small shrug, “Alright, then what would you like to know?”

Pansy felt as though a giant, invisible gong had hit her square in the...well, everything, and as a soft vibration was suddenly present from where she knew the Time-Turner was lying in her pocket as the answer to his question pounded inside her like a pulse. 

 

“Everything.”


	9. Everything

 

“Everything?” he repeated, looking bemused and amused all at once. 

 

“Everything.” Pansy stated as they looked at one another. She still felt the effects of the alcohol she’d consumed earlier in the evening but they were less. 

She’d been acquainted with the sobering up stage a fair few times. Well, you did when best friends with Daphne Greengrass, who often ended a night of drinking with conversations that lasted long after the sun had replaced the moon. 

 

“On one condition,” Regulus said with a smile that met his eyes. 

 

“Oh?”

 

“You tell me everything, as well.”

 

She surveyed him, before outstretching a hand forwards, which he took with a snort. “It’s a deal,” she said as they shook. 

 

“So,” Regulus began, “where does everything begin? I’m assuming you’re looking for slightly later than my conception?”

 

Pansy raised one eyebrow. “Do you  _ know  _ about your conception?”

 

“I do not, but knowing my parents it was more than likely meticulously planned, painful and full of ridiculous pureblood rituals. My father probably had to sacrifice a hippogriff on Merlin’s grave or something.”

 

Pansy made a noise of disgust but couldn’t hide her laughter. Deciding to pursue a safer route, that didn’t involve the mating habits of Mr and Mrs Black, Pansy asked, “Did you have a good childhood?” thinking of her own, so much of it spent in the very house she was sitting in, a house a young Pansy had yet to set foot in. 

 

“Not overly,” Regulus began, “it was full of society events and charity balls hosted by people who wouldn’t know a charitable cause if it punched them in the nose.”

 

“Sounds familiar,” Pansy stated, rolling her eyes, to which Regulus gave her a single nod before he narrowed his eyes, looking deep in thought. 

 

“I’ve had an idea,” he said.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Well, you’re clearly no longer as drunk as you should be, and I’m not drunk at all, why don’t we make this more interesting?”

 

Pansy narrowed her own eyes and sat forwards, closer to him. “I’m listening.”

 

“Accio Lucius’s finest firewhisky,” Regulus said with a flick of his wand as he cocked his head, smirking slightly as a crystal decanter flew across the room and into his awaiting hand.

 

“Accio whisky glasses,” Pansy said, to which Regulus nodded approvingly. 

 

“Okay,” Regulus began, pouring two generous measures into the glasses Pansy was now holding out, “You ask a question; you drink, and neither of us has to answer or elaborate on anything that we don’t want to.” Pansy smiled at his second rule. 

 

“Sounds good to me,” Pansy replied, “so do I drink because I asked the question?”

 

“Go for it,” he answered, briefly holding his own tumbler up. And she did. 

 

“Your turn,” she said after downing the whisky as best she could, which hadn’t gone down as smoothly as she would have liked, causing her to cough and splutter embarrassingly. To his credit, Regulus didn’t mention it, something Pansy was grateful for. 

 

“What is your favourite memory?”

 

Pansy took a breath as Regulus took a drink. “Okay, so, it’s probably the time Daphne, Theo, Dr-” she halted and swallowed, before continuing after racking her brain for a decoy name, “Dron, and I got stranded in Muggle London, we ended up in this bar that turned out to be a gay bar, which was hilarious once we worked out that the guy Daphne had spent over half an hour hitting on, was actually using her to get information about Theo,” she relayed the tale, which had ended up in the four of them being invited backstage to a drag show, which Theo had ended up starring in. She smiled gently as she remembered. “Okay, my turn,” she said, refilling her whisky. 

 

“Tell me  _ one thing  _ about your childhood that wasn’t awful?”

 

Regulus didn’t pause to contemplate. “Pretty much every memory I have of my brother. We’re all Blacks but he’s the only one that’s also a sheep, everything he does is with one goal in mind: piss of our parents, and to be fair, he’s pretty great at it. We don’t speak now, all he sees is Regulus: Death Eater.” Regulus ended, sadly.

 

Pansy smiled sadly at his answer, “Your turn to ask.”

 

Regulus nodded and took a swig. “Why didn’t you go to Hogwarts, when you arrived here from the future?”

 

“I don’t trust Dumbledore.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

“If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

 

“Steak pie and mash...obviously!”

 

“ _ Obviously _ indeed.”

 

“Age you first got drunk?”

 

“Fourteen, I think. That was Dra- err..Dron’s fault, he stole all this whisky from his-” Pansy’s eyes widened momentarily as she looked down at the stolen whisky she was currently drinking, not knowing whether to pen the occurrence ironic or symbolic, nonetheless, she continued, “his father.”

 

“Tut tut!”

 

“Age you lost your virginity?” Pansy countered, her expression wicked. 

 

“Sixteen...same question.”

 

“Also sixteen.”

 

“Lucky guy,” Regulus remarked, downing the remainder of his whisky. 

 

“Worst nightmare?”

 

“Never making up with Sirius. Something not many people know about you?”

 

“Unicorns are my favourite animals. Dream job... if there wasn’t a war?”

 

Regulus snorted as he filled his glass again. “Funnily enough, I want my own bar one day. What is the last dream you remember having?”

 

“I have  _ the most  _ annoying recurring dream about a freaky looking Sphynx that has Professor Snape’s head.”

 

Regulus burst out laughing. “ _ Please,  _ Merlin, tell me you mean Severus?”

 

“Oh shit...of course he’s not professor anything in this time.”

 

“Potions perchance?”

 

“Sure is, and,” Pansy paused, knowing it would be foolish to reveal that Severus Snape hadn’t taught since the war, “Head of Slytherin.”

 

“Bet that’s a hoot.”

 

“Favourite Muggle band or singer?”

 

“David Bowie, but if you tell anyone I’ll be disowned, literally.”

 

“My lips are sealed, I quite like him, too.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“ _ Rebel Rebel _ is Daph and I’s getting ready song.”

 

“Nice,” Regulus stated, clearly impressed. “Can you cast a corporeal patronus?”

 

Pansy swallowed, not meeting his eyes. She  _ could  _ cast a corporeal patronus, and had been able to since last year, but it wasn’t something she’d ever do in front of anyone unless necessary. “Yes,” she answered, shiftily. 

 

“What’s its form?”

 

“It’s my turn to ask!”

 

“Oh right, okay...go on.”

 

“Best kiss you’ve ever had?”

 

“You know,” Regulus’s words had begun to slur a few questions ago, and Pansy’s a few questions before that. “I don’t think I’ve had it yet. What’s your patronus’ form?”

 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

 

He placed his hand on the left side of his chest, in a mock salute. “I promise.”

 

“My patronus is a cow.”

 

It must’ve taken everything he had, from the way his mouth reverted into a straight line and his shoulders seemed to shake, but he managed to refrain from actually laughing out loud. 

 

She breathed a breath of relief, and continued with their game.“If you could have any wild animal as a pet, what would you choose?”

 

“Polar bear. What’s your favourite breakfast?”

 

“Pancakes...and apple juice. Have you ever had a one night stand?”

 

“Yes, and to be honest it was shit, a week later she was my brother’s girlfriend. What three things would you take to a desert island?”

 

“My journal, which wouldn’t be in a different decade to me, an emerald necklace Daph got me, which again, wouldn’t be in a different decade to me, and an owl, for company. What do you think is your best physical feature?”

 

“I have no idea why, but I like my hair.”

 

“I can see why,” Pansy said, wrinkling her nose at him playfully. 

 

“How many boyfriends have you had?”

 

“Two. Favourite sexual position?”

 

“Girl on top. Where’s your weird turn on spot?”

 

“Inside of my elbow. Same question.”

 

“The bottom of my stomach, between my belly button and...you know.”

 

“I do.”

 

“How does one go about winning a Pansy Parkinson?”

 

“He acknowledges how perfect I am. Who would be a Regulus Black’s ideal woman?”

 

“Dark hair, green eyes and wicked tongue...Oh, and she’s perfect.”

 

She smirked at his answer, she had to hand it to him, a drunk Regulus was a smooth Regulus. 

 

“Same question.”

 

“He has a nice face and floppy hair. He hates the world as it is and secretly mocks all the pureblood ideals he’s supposed to uphold,” she paused to yawn, realising how tired she was. It  _ had  _ been an incredibly long day. “He walks me to my room and doesn’t disgrace himself by asking for anything as debaucherous as a kiss, and in the morning he makes sure I get brought pancakes.”

 

Regulus shot her a smile, “Would m’lady care to be escorted back to her chambers?”

 

“Yes, she would,” she replied as he offered her his arm, which she took, giggling, before the pair promptly fell over. 

 

“Well,” Regulus began as he attempted, unsuccessfully to rise to his feet. “This complicates things.”

  
  
  
  
  



	10. Accio Pansy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Dancing-Souls, without whom we wouldn't have the fantastic headcanon about Walburga's curtains (; ahah!

She had awoken in her new room at Malfoy Manor to a House Elf she hadn’t yet met bringing her a tray of breakfast. “Mr Regulus would like you to be informed that he made sure these were brought to you, Miss Pansy,” a small voice squeaked.

 

Pansy allowed herself the smallest smile as she accepted the tray, her mind’s eye presented the events of the last night to the forefront of her conscious. 

She was dimly aware of a few rather discouraging facts: Narcissa was capable of drinking Pansy under the table, with far greater ease than her son ever could, or would, and that asking, and answering  _ everything  _ with Regulus Black was both hilarious, dismal, insightful and enticing all at once. 

Pansy began to eat, and found herself hungrier than she had realised, and within ten minutes had cleared the tray.  _ That’s the spirit, Pansy...it’s the past, might as well get fat because why the hell not!? _

She washed and dressed shortly after, not entirely sure what on earth she was meant to do, and was just attempting to use the makeup Narcissa had leant her,  _ attempt  _ being the imperative word considering how awkward the stuff was to use in the 1970’s, when a short rap on her door drew her attention. 

“Yeah?” Pansy called, and watched as the door opened and a head popped around. Pansy’s eyes widened, having wholeheartedly expected Narcissa’s perfect blonde locks, and instead the messy mop of dark waves that belonged to Regulus. 

“Thought you might fancy some company,” he said with a smile, “Cissa has some date-type nonsense with Lucius and I was only too happy to come see our delightful time traveller, if only to make sure the pancakes were well received.”

Pansy felt herself swallow and the same soft fluttery feeling that had made itself at home during their interactions arrived in her chest at the sight of him, a feeling she knew she ought to ignore _...shouldn’t I? _

“They were very nice, but here was I thinking you might actually have _wanted_ to spend time with me,” Pansy replied playfully. She internally cursed herself, she shouldn’t be flirting with him, _probably shouldn’t have asked him all about his sex life last night, either_ , before swallowing as she heard, from the drawer by her left thigh, the unrecognisable pulse of vibration, which could only be from the Time-Turner. “Shut up,” Pansy hissed under her breath at the drawer.

“But,  _ of course  _ I wanted to spend time with you, greatest idea I’ve had in awhile.”

Pansy blinked at his words, and suddenly, as if from nowhere, she remembered Narcissa’s from the previous night, ‘ _He despises the world the way it is’,_ along with some of the answers he’d given her, and suddenly her breathing seemed more difficult, as though the truth of the young man in front of her, and, possibly more to the point, the fact that she knew he’d never see a world he didn’t despise, made Pansy feel positively faint. In desperation to keep her sudden panic from Regulus, and trying greatly to ignore the fact that the walls seemed to be moving towards her all at once, Pansy blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Can we go for a walk?”

“Yeah, of course,” Regulus frowned, “Pansy, you okay?”

“Just want to get outside.”

“Okay, let’s go, there’s a nice spot on the grounds with this bunch of ponds.”

Pansy sniffed and slowly rose to her feet. She shot Regulus a wobbly smile. She knew those ponds well, and they really were lovely. “I know the spot.”

The collection of ponds were located on the easternmost edge of the Malfoy estate. The grounds were, as Pansy had always known, enormous; their vastness descending further than their line of sight could stretch in any direction. The walk to the ponds took the better part of twenty minutes.

“It’s mad, isn’t it?” Regulus observed as they walked, “that anyone would own  _ this  _ much land.”

Pansy watched a nearby albino peacock strut past, she snorted at the realisation that Lucius’s peacock obsession had started long before any of them could have guessed, as she tried to not let her mind wander too far from the present situation, as much as truths she didn’t want to acknowledge, and predicaments she didn’t want to deliberate over, kept threatening their way back to the front of her mind. “I suppose.”

Her peripheral vision showed her that Regulus had turned his face towards her. “You sure you’re okay?”

She got, for the second time in as many days, the fleeting urge to lie to him, but something, and Pansy now realised that, in this instance, that something was a small, regular vibration from inside the left pocket of her trousers, prompted her to tell the truth. 

“No,” Pansy replied, simply, “I don’t think I am.”

The Time-Turner vibrated a single, long, unwavering vibration and then stilled. “I didn’t even bring you with me,” Pansy hissed at her pocket. 

“I’m fairly certain that you did, in fact, bring me with you,” Regulus teased, “or, more accurately, I’m pretty sure I brought  _ you _ with  _ me _ .”

“Not you,” Pansy began, deliberating that  _ clearly  _ the Time-Turner was in favour of her omitting the lies she wanted to feed Regulus, and brought the artefact out of her pocket, where it hung, innocently, despite Pansy’s glaring. “It’s up to something.”

Blinking, Regulus unsuccessfully hid his desire to laugh, “It’s up to something?”

“Yes,” Pansy replied, turning her slightly less harsh glare, to Regulus, who snorted much to Pansy’s annoyance. “What?” she demanded.

“You get annoyed easily, don’t you?”

Pansy was taken aback by his question, and was beginning to feel more irritated by the second at the way he was still barely concealing his desire to laugh. “I do when idiots ask stupid questions.” At her words the Turner vibrated violently in her hand, startling Pansy, who nearly dropped it as she gaped at the sheer cheek of the timepiece. 

Regulus scoffed again, though seemed amused, rather than phased by her snap and ran one hand through his floppy brown hair, “You look cute when you’re annoyed,” he said with a grin, before setting off again towards the ponds. 

Pansy breathed a sigh through her nose and stuffed the Time-Turner back into her pocket as she stared daggers into the back of Regulus’s head and felt her thigh begin to feel numb at the extent of the vibrations that were emanating through her pocket. Back in her time no one would dare to say that, not even Draco. In the nineties Pansy could silence the majority of her classmates with one look. In the seventies, it was starting to transpire, Pansy held none of the same influence, the realisation of which only annoyed her further. 

“I do  _ not  _ look cute,” Pansy countered as she hurried to catch up with Regulus, “do you insult every girl who stumbles through time at you?”

“Okay,” Regulus stopped again and whirled around to face her, “number one; since  _ when  _ is ‘cute’ an insult?”

“Since always,” Pansy interjected.

“And number two,” Regulus continued, ignoring the interruption, “as a matter of fact  _ yes,  _ considering you are the only girl who has ever stumbled through time at me.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes, “Well then, seventies girls are  _ obviously  _ incredibly lucky to have your verbal prowess to charm them.” As the words left her lips, Pansy let out a yelp of pain and clamped her hand to her thigh. “What in the hell did you do  _ that  _ for?” Pansy growled at the Turner, rubbing her leg where the latest vibration had been so great, it had caused a sharp, stabbing pain, much to Pansy’s unamusement. 

Regulus, on the other hand, clearly found a great deal of amusement in the latest behavioural reveal of the Turner. “It gets mad when you’re mean to me,” he said, his voice full of glee. 

“I’d hardly call  _ that  _ mean,” Pansy snapped, “I can be much more mean than that.”

“Go ahead!”

Narrowing her eyes, Pansy turned away from him, stung. Throughout her life, Pansy had navigated herself in such a manner that she controlled most of her relationships and surroundings with ease, she wove the tapestry for how the majority of her interactions took place and she did so with an incredible amount of dexterity. 

Now, however, as with every other aspect of her life, that had completely changed, with even her trademark sass currently under threat, unless of course she wished to feel the wrath of a troublesome, sentient Time-Turner, Pansy felt a definite sense of vulnerability, as though what made her  _ her, _ was threatened. 

“I can’t even insult properly here,” Pansy huffed. 

“Oh, I think you can, and you’re probably very good at it,” Regulus replied, “I just think you can’t insult me.”

“But you’re who I want to insult,” Pansy said, although now it was her turn to struggle to keep the small hint of a smile at bay.

Regulus burst out laughing and stopped, having reached the edge of the first pond, breathed deeply. He turned his head to face her and said, confidently, “That’s so cute.” Unfortunately for Regulus, Pansy was nothing if not an opportunist, especially when it came to besting others, and took what she saw to be the perfect excuse to get back at him, nonverbally. 

The splash that Regulus made as he crashed into the pond was louder than Pansy had imagined it would be, which made what she saw as a small victory, even sweeter. That was until he stood up, now armpit height in water, his eyebrows cocked and his eyes, despite the fact he’d just been pushed into one of the Malfoy ponds, sparkled mischievously.

Pansy’s grin faltered as she watched Regulus raise his soaking wand. “Wh-what are you-”

 

“Oh, you are good,” he said, running a palm through his wet hair, before he shot her a wink, “Accio Pansy!”


	11. Cute is off the Cards

Pansy, who had been unable to cast any sort of counter-charm to stop herself being summoned a few feet forward, flew towards Regulus, and the water of the pond, in an instant whoosh. She eventually crashed into the wizard who, as well as Pansy, fell once more under the surface of the glassy water. They emerged, coughing and spluttering; the pond wasn’t deep, but nor was it shallow enough to avoid being thrust entirely underwater, and as Pansy stood, shakily, holding onto Regulus’s shoulder for support despite the impending screaming match she intended to have with him, she found she was shivering.

It took approximately three seconds of Pansy gasping and Regulus laughing for Pansy to find her voice. “YOU ABSOLUTE ARSE, REGULUS BLACK!”

“You did push me first.”

“You deserved it!” Pansy retorted, but even through her shock and annoyance that she was now dripping wet and freezing, she was unable to stop the corners of her mouth from raising slightly, something she was positive that Regulus had definitely not missed.”

“Oh yes,” Regulus began, taking offering his arm to her as they began to wade their way from the pond, “complimenting you, how heinous of me!”

Pansy shot him a grimace but found herself hanging onto his forearm as they climbed back onto the grass and, once standing on dry ground again, watched him, with far greater interest than she would ever admit, pull his jumper over his head. As he did, the bottom of his shirt rode up just a little, not quite to his belly button, but enough to elicit a silent draw of breath from Pansy as the small line of hairs, the ones Daphne coined a ‘knezael’s tail’, came very much into her line of sight. And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared as Regulus’s jumper was removed entirety, and what was visible instead, wasn’t a line of aesthetically pleasing hairs, but a familiar, all too familiar, magical tattoo, situated, exactly where Draco’s was - Draco’s is, or will be, on Regulus’s left forearm.

The sight made Pansy’s heart feel as though it had fallen out of her chest like a stone, and as much as she tried to act nonchalant, she knew that Regulus had watched her reaction unfurl in front of his eyes. “I-,” he began, until Pansy lifted her hand up, stalling his words as she remembered Narcissa’s from the previous evening, He despises the world the way it is, and felt an instant sadness at what Regulus’s Dark Mark meant; always wearing the insignia of something you hated, but felt trapped into being a part of.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, not to me,” she spoke honestly, “I know you aren’t...like, well, you know,” she gestured, aimlessly, “I-I know,” she finished, feeling foolish at her fruitless attempts of comfort, although feeling something in the way of comfort herself at the soft vibration that was happening from her pocket as she spoke, and tried not to wonder whether the similar soft flutter in her chest was something that she should ignore, or acknowledge.

Regulus nodded, and then smiled as he awkwardly scratched the mark. “Good, I’m glad you know that. Here,” he said, pointing his wand at Pansy, who felt a pleasant warming sensation and knew that he was casting a drying charm over her, and after he finished and cast the same over himself, he led them to what he deemed was his original plan that hadn’t involved being pushed into a pond, in the form of a small, unfamiliar wooden bench nearby.

“Huh,” Pansy said, “this bench isn’t here in twenty years time.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows, “No? I wonder what happens to it.”

They sat in relative silence, which felt enjoyable, more so than Pansy was entirely comfortable with, especially since when they leant back in unison and Pansy found their shoulders were touching. She swallowed hard and wondered just how wrong it would be to grow close to a man she knew had a very real end date, and whose time she did not belong to. The thoughts and confusing feelings, of which there were now many more, had it really only been a day? were so different to any she had ever had in her own time, and as much as I bloody know you’re influencing things because I’m not a moron, she directed her thoughts towards the, at present, constant hum emanating from her pocket, she also knew she held no real desire to shy away from them anytime soon. The thought of being close to anyone in this time was scary, and yet the thought of being close to no one was terrifying.

“So...cute is off the cards,” Regulus said as they watched the same albino peacock from before strut closer to them.

Pansy shot him a sideways glance. “Definitely.”

“What can I call you?”

“Pansy.”

“Anything else?”

“Queen of the Universe.”

Regulus snorted. “Duly noted. Pansy?”

“Hey now, what happened to Queen of the Universe?”

Regulus paused, clearly trying not to laugh, “I’m terribly sorry. Queen of the Universe?”

“Yes?”

“I feel like I’ve known you for a lot longer than a day,” he said bluntly, and Pansy knew why he was touching upon the subject, the same subject that was running rampant within her mind. Their evening, and this morning, and the ease that she’d felt with him hovered over them like a cloud of what perhaps should have been awkwardness and yet somehow remained easy, enjoyable even.

“Yep,” Pansy replied, elongating the ye, “and I have a feeling I know why.” She shuffled slightly and pulled the Time-Turner from her pocket once more, she held it by its chain, so that it swayed slightly, “it’s influencing us, I’m sure of it.”

Regulus turned his head to face Pansy, and she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, “Does that...bother you, that it’s...influencing us, I mean.”

Pansy drew in a breath. “It really, really should,” she said, noting the way his dark brown eyes featured several spots of what appeared to be light grey, “but it really, really doesn’t.”

She felt his arm closest to her shift upwards and over the back of the bench, where he laid it, not quite around her, but not quite not around her, either. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said, quieter this time, not needing to be as loud as he moved closer to her, the specs of light grey were getting larger, as were the light dusting of freckles she hadn’t known he had, until she could have counted every one of his eyelashes…-

“REGULUS?! PANSY?! PLEASE, MERLIN TELL ME YOU’RE BOTH NEAR HERE?!”


	12. Changing Dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my husband, not that he'll see this, but he's had a very sad week, and he deserves the world. Mr waterfalcon, I love you.

Regulus did nothing to hide his annoyance at Narcissa’s interruption, and greeted her cries with a whispered, “Are you fucking kidding me?” before he let out a loud, frustrated groan and cried, “Narcissa, WHAT?!” at which Pansy, albeit also rather disappointed, had to stifle a laugh.

 

Appearing around the side of a nearby large bush, Narcissa’s perfectly put together face looked incredibly alarmed and she eyed the pair suspiciously before saying, “I’ve been looking for the pair of you, I have something to discuss with you both.”

“I’ll give you something to discuss,” Pansy heard Regulus mutter to no one in particular, and had to resist the urge, once again, to laugh at his irritation. As it turned out, however, her last attempt was clearly unsuccessful, as Regulus’s face, eyes wide, rounded on her. “Are you laughing at me being annoyed?”

Pansy bit her bottom lip and surveyed him before answering, “I am, it’s very...cute,” she answered, with the teasing hint of a smile.

“How  _ dare  _ you!?” Regulus exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, dramatically, “do you know what you deserve?”

“To be pushed into a pond?” Pansy offered, trying to keep her voice steady despite her very-present need to burst out laughing, something which she could see perfectly mimicked on Regulus’s face. 

“To be,” Regulus began, as he lost his battle against his own hysteria, he continued through his laughs, “pushed... in a...fucking pond!”

Narcissa, who up until this point Pansy had forgotten all about, had been staring at the two and decided at that moment to make herself known again. Pansy looked upwards as Narcissa cleared her throat, an expression of utter bemusement covering her pale face. “Shall we go inside?” Narcissa asked, an air of uncertainty in her tone as her narrowed eyes darted between Pansy and Regulus suspiciously. 

Throwing each other one last glance, Pansy and Regulus rose in unison, and, both just behind Narcissa, they began to walk back towards the Manor, this time positioned closer than they were when they left only an hour or so earlier. It felt, to Pansy, and she believed to Regulus too, that the dynamic between them had changed in such a short time. Which, considering the fact that she’d only been here since yesterday, changing dynamics within a short space of time now felt like Pansy and Regulus’s flagship. 

Once inside, Narcissa led the pair through the familiar labyrinth of corridors that made Pansy glad she already the layout of the building as well as she knew the back of her hand, for the ever winding halls and doors were numerous. It became apparent, quickly, that Narcissa was heading them on a very definite path, and it was one that seemed odd Pansy, and from the frown he shot her, she gathered Regulus was just as confused. 

  
“Why are we going to my room?” 

Narcissa shot Pansy a sharp look over her shoulder, the sort of look that assured Pansy that all would be revealed once they arrived, but the expression the blonde wore was also laced with a seriousness that gave Pansy a layer of goosebumps over her arms. In her pocket, the Time-Turner was vibrating again, this time with an odd erratic pattern that only abetted Pansy’s slight wave of unease. As though he sensed it, Pansy suddenly felt Regulus rest the palm of his hand on the small of her back, and the gesture was enough to allow her to breathe the breath she had been holding onto since Narcissa had looked at her. 

Once they were inside the room, which Pansy realised she really ought to start referring to as a suite, considering the size of it, she walked to her bed, which had been made at some point in her absence and sat herself on the edge. Regulus joined her a second later, sitting so close to her the sides of their thighs were just touching. It wasn't much, and perhaps she shouldn't want it at all, but she liked how close he was, and pressed her leg ever so slightly to the left, into his, only hard enough that he would feel it. To her relief, she felt him push his own leg gently back into hers. 

Narcissa planted herself on the stool of Pansy’s dressing table, and glanced at the contents atop the wood briefly, and frowned. “You've used the makeup?” 

Pansy blinked, “Was I not supposed to?” 

“Yes, of course,” Narcissa replied, “what I mean is that how could you use it, but not actually have any on your face?”

“Oh,” Pansy answered, confused for a second, before realising, “Oh! Regulus summoned me into a pond, washed it all off, he's such a prat.” 

She felt him snicker beside her. “I really am, I'm an absolute monster that likes to push girls in ponds to make them like me.” 

“It's a truly terrible strategy,” Pansy rebuffed. 

Narcissa regarded the two with an air or amusement  “Are you quite sure about that, Pansy?” 

Pansy cleared her throat as Regulus sniggered again. “Quite sure.” 

“Nonsense, anyway,” Narcissa began as Pansy gaped, taken aback at being called a liar in such a flippant manner, not that she  _ wasn't  _ being one in this instance, of course, but nonetheless it bugged her to hear. “We have a...situation,” Narcissa continued, “I have not long been informed that You-Know-Who has requested some sort of dinner party, and Lucius just happened to volunteer my house,” she looked thunderous all of a sudden, “a  _ week  _ ago, and didn't think to mention it before today, the day of said party. Pillock…” she trailed off. 

“Today?” Regulus asked, all his earlier jovialness gone.

“Mmhmm, well, tonight, I suppose,” Narcissa answered. 

Pansy's eyes were wide. _ So this complicates things. _ The thought of attending any sort of social event with Voldemort was hardly a pleasant one, and with the added complication that she came from a time where not only did he not exist anymore, but she possessed some of the answers as to how that became a possibility, was certainly not a pleasant one. She realised both Narcissa and Regulus were regarding her silently as the Time-Turner buzzed more erratically than before. 

“My vote is that we hide you,” Narcissa said to Pansy, who swallowed a tiny ray of relief as her eyes searched out the sky out of her window. It was blue and clear and just what lunchtime skies  _ should  _ look like. Turning her attention back to the others, Pansy’s now racing mind couldn’t be more different from the sky above.  

She felt Regulus press himself gently closer into her, something she felt an instant gratitude for, “I agree,” he offered with a nod, “what do you think?” He asked Pansy, who looked between him and Narcissa before nodding. 

“I  _ definitely  _ agree.” 


	13. Options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @SandraSempra, who made me the most beautiful photomanip for V&L this week, which has inspired a whole future chapter. If you follow me on Tumblr (@thewaterfalcon) you may have seen it, but if not, I will be linking it in when we get to said chapter!
> 
> I get the feeling that half of you are desperate for them to get together, and the other half are furrowing their brows at me because IT’S SO SOON. I know this, and believe me I’ve deliberated on how realistic it is for them to feel so strongly so quickly, and there are three definite reasons I’ve chosen to go down this path. 1) Writing them this way is what came the most naturally. 2) The Time-Turner influencing their feelings is a massive plot point, *but* Pansy and Regulus’s feelings are very much there from the beginning, the TT at the point is acting as an amplifier for them. It isn’t forcing feelings that aren’t there, or acting in a similar fashion to a love potion or anything. I believe sometimes in life people just have a connection, which leads me to point 3) It’s cheesy but, I fell in love with my husband, and he with I, after one night. The feelings and emotions present in V&L are very much taken from my life.

They deliberated on the details for a long while, and it wasn’t until Narcissa waltzed over to the large, French style windows and looked out at the view below, which showed the grounds at the front of the Malfoy’s grand house, that she realised the company she had hired to provide all the decorative details she had demanded a few seconds after Lucius had dropped the bombshell that the dinner party was to exist, were arriving. 

“Why are they coming to the front door?” Narcissa hissed, “ help  goes to the side door by the kitchens, what kind of fools  do not  know that? Who even throws a dinner party in the middle of the  day?  This is ridiculous!” she emphasised each word with a crazed look in her eyes and breathed a long sigh from her nose. “Okay, what are we doing about Pansy? We need to decide  now .”

They had run through a small number of options, the first being Pansy remaining in her room at the Manor with the door hexed closed, neither Pansy nor Narcissa had loved the idea, but Regulus had been the one to object the strongest. “I don’t want you near  him, ” he had said, his forehead wrinkled, as though the mere thought caused him both pain and confusion. 

Pansy’s gaze moved downwards. “I don’t particularly want that either, I’d managed to avoid it, and then I didn’t need to...” she trailed off, not entirely sure if what she had just hinted at broke even more rules of time magic than Pansy already had, not that she was entirely sure she cared either way.  

Narcissa’s eyes had shot to Pansy’s face at the words. “Does that mean...can that mean that,” her voice lowered to nothing more than a whisper, “in your time, he’s gone?”

Pansy had expected the Time-Turner to hurt her again at her almost admission, but it seemed, for once, intent on remaining still throughout the conversation. She felt Regulus stiffen at Narcissa’s question and knew they were both expectant and watching her. She swallowed, the lack of vibration from the Turner her only, albeit not very confidence inducing hint that what she was about to say wouldn’t somehow erase her from existence as she broke some ancient law that royally fucked up her loop of time-travel. She wrinkled her nose, the logistics of the situation far too much for her to comprehend, and took a breath, muttering a quiet ‘Fuck it’, before she answered. “Yes, in my time, he has been defeated,” she stopped, deliberating on whether she ought to say more, and deciding, after nothing horrible transpiring - so soon anyway, to risk a small amount more. “It technically happens twice, he’s gone for...awhile, but he comes back, and then,” Pansy’s eyes darted between Narcissa, who was staring intently at Pansy, eyes wide, and the floor, not quite bringing herself to look at Regulus, “he’s defeated again, for good.”

Pansy heard Regulus let out a low whistle beside her, whilst Narcissa’s eyes continued to bore into Pansy’s face, as though not sure whether to believe the younger witch or not. “Merlin,” Narcissa breathed, “I never thought it could be, never…” 

“I don’t think I should say anymore,” Pansy muttered, only just loud enough for the two to hear her, “I’m fairly positive I shouldn’t have said anything at all.” Her eyes met Narcissa’s again, and the older witch nodded, her expression understanding. For the first time, Pansy turned and looked at Regulus, who shot her a small smile as his hand found its way once more to the small of her back. 

Narcissa’s expression had normalised to her usual poise once more. “We still need to make a decision, there’s the South wing, no one has ventured there for months, and then Pansy going and hiding in a nearby Muggle town for a while,” Pansy had felt Regulus’s hand stiffen at this suggestion, “or there’s also the lake house?” Narcissa asked, breaking the short silence that had befallen the three, “it’s empty, I’m certain hardly any people even know of its existence now, possibly only myself and Andromeda, my parents have never even allowed Bellatrix the knowledge.”

The lake house had been Pansy’s favourite idea so far. They had no way to know how long Voldemort was planning to stay at the Manor, and whether the dinner party, which was being held for a late lunch rather than an evening dinner, would roll into the night, which wasn’t something they could even hazard a guess at, as it depended on Voldemort’s wishes. And Voldemort’s wishes, both Narcissa and Regulus both pointed out, often came as a surprise to even his more trusted Death Eaters. 

“Why not?” Pansy questioned.

“Have you ever met my sister?”

Remembering the few times she’d met Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, each time both Draco and Narcissa had been present and, as she thought back, realised Narcissa had usually placed herself, subtlely, in front of Pansy during such meetings. With a rush of gratitude she had no way to concisely explain to the other witch, Pansy nodded, “A couple of times, sort of,” she answered.

“Then, unless her demeanour and attitude and, well,  everything  she is changes drastically in the next ten or so years, I’m sure you can guess why.”

Pansy nodded, “She is a bit of a-”

“Deranged heathen?” Narcissa offered, her tone matter-of-fact. “Yes, she is.”

“And she doesn’t know anything about this lake house?” Pansy asked.

“Definitely not.”

“Okay, then I want to go there,” Pansy said, glad to have made the decision and that she wouldn’t even have to be present in the Manor during Voldemort’s gathering. 

Pansy felt Regulus’s palm make small circles on the spot at the base of her back. “I think that’s the best idea,” Narcissa said with a nod, and opened her mouth to speak further, when an almighty crash erupted from elsewhere in the house, somewhere which sounded suspiciously as though it could have emanated from the direction of the dining room. 

Narcissa’s head fell into her palm and her face took on a rouge flush at the noise. “Absolute incompetence, had I known earlier than a few hours I could have hired people who actually  know what they are doing, ” she raved, her annoyance at Lucius clearly appearing in droves. 

“Alright, wait here, both of you, I have a portkey to the house hidden, it’s sealed to the Blacks so Regulus will be able to let you in, clearly I’m going to have to oversee these clowns attempting to destroy my house. It’s guarded by all the usuals,” she added, inclining her head towards Regulus, who Pansy watched give a single nod, before she strode to the door and exited the room. 

“You alright?” Regulus murmured, somewhere near Pansy’s ear after a moment or two of quiet contemplation fell between them. The circular movements of his hand on her lower back had not faltered for a second.

For the first time, she felt no hesitation in speaking her truth to him, and as she heard the clip-clop of Narcissa’s returning footsteps, Pansy heard herself whispering just loud enough for Regulus to hear. “I wish you could stay at the lake house...with me.”

She felt his smile, even when she wasn’t looking directly at him, and his hand snaked from the same spot on her back, to gently grip the side of her waist. It was over far quicker than she would have liked, but nonetheless, the touch sent a shudder of...something, through her. 

As the door opened again, Pansy and Regulus looked up at Narcissa, expectantly. Her eyes were wide and she was wearing the same expression she wore when she led them back to Pansy’s room. When she spoke, it was rushed and her hands began to beckon.

“The only room in this house that you can travel via portkey is the dining room,” Narcissa hissed. Pansy and Regulus were now level with her, they wore matching looks of nervousness as the three, at Narcissa’s hurried gestures, began to walk through the Manor. “And I have just learned that You-Know-Who is heading here right now, and I don’t know if we have enough time to get there.”

Immediately, Pansy’s heart began to race and tiny droplets of sweat began to congregate on her palm. “Shit!” she heard Regulus exclaim beside her. 

Swallowing, she hurried her steps as they rounded a corner just in time to hear the familiar crack of apparition and the undeniable sound of Lucius Malfoy exclaiming an enthusiastic “My Lord!”

 

Narcissa turned on her heel just as Pansy was certain she felt her heart vacate her body along with her ability to breath correctly. Speaking directly to Regulus, Pansy was dimly aware of the words the older witch spoke, “Go into  that  bedroom,” she nodded towards a door not three metres away from their current position, “and pull the third book on the second shelf along the wall, follow the passage to the kitchens, leave through the back door and then get beyond the grounds,” Narcissa rattled the instructions off as though they were a shopping list. “I shall attempt to usher the Dark Lord to the rooms that face the front of the Manor. You’ll feel the wards once you get close but there’s a weak spot behind the peacock stable, barn, whatever on Earth that eyesore is. Once you’re past there, this,” she handed Regulus what looked to be an old pocket watch, “will work.”


	14. Portus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if it hasn’t been a hot minute since I updated! Apologies, this week life has granted me my motivation to paint once more (I’m a watercolourist - and fan artist, by trade - check out my Facebook page ‘The Water Falcon’, if you’re interested at all) and so my creative energies have been invested in that, but that doesn’t at all mean that my stories are going to suffer in any way!

They moved with haste. Pansy’s heart was hammering against her ribs as though it were a wild, caged creature and she dimly felt Regulus wrap his fingers around the spot just below her elbow, and he ushered her, his hand unmoving, into the bedroom Narcissa had pointed to. 

 

“Everything is going to be alright,” Regulus muttered as he approached the bookshelves. The third book on the second shelf was leather bound and dark blue, and as Regulus pulled the tomb forward, once you were aware of the fact it was used to open a passageway, the lack of dust on the majority of the cover, was blatantly obvious. 

The passage appeared instantaneously, and Pansy watched as a number of wooden panels on the wall just beneath the shelves slid aside, revealing a dark, rectangular hole, just wide enough for one person to go through at once. Regulus turned to face her and Pansy’s breath hitched as he reached forward and trailed his fingertips gently down the side of her face, she still felt fear but also...something else. 

“You ready?” Regulus asked, and Pansy nodded curtly, knowing that  _ ready  _ was the only way she could afford to be at present. Regulus shot her a small smile before offering his hand to her, a hand which she took eagerly, and held tightly, their fingers interlaced, as they stepped into the secret passageway. 

The walk to the kitchens was short, Pansy rationally knew, but felt lengthy. The panel had returned itself to normal after she had stepped inside, which had plunged them into pure darkness and so they relied on the light from Regulus’s wand to guide their way. 

The Malfoy kitchens were large and about as grand as kitchens could possibly get. The brightness that poured in through the expansive windows forced Pansy to stop and thrust an arm in front of her eyes. Pansy had visited these kitchens many times, although more so when she was a child and Draco would pester the various house elves for food. There were several elves milling around when Regulus and Pansy appeared from inside a tall, full-length cupboard. 

“Huh, that’s clever,” Regulus muttered as they closed the door behind them and skirted around the elves, none of whom acknowledged the pair other than to offer a well-practised bow, before exiting Malfoy Manor through the back door and, for the second time that day, his hand still in hers despite the passageway now behind them, stepped out into the grounds of the Manor. 

Glancing upwards, Pansy let out a sigh through her nose, her throat felt suddenly dry at the sight, and her legs seemed suddenly noodly. The sky above, which she had been under less than a few hours previous, which had been brilliant, blue and cloudless, was darkening and the brightness that had caused her eyes to almost hurt when they emerged from the tunnel, was vastly disappearing. The view was harrowing but also strangely captivating, as though the swirling patterns of the clouds held some kind of hypnotic prowess. She gripped Regulus’s hand tighter still as they began to make their way across the vast grounds. They strode with purpose and with one goal in mind; get to the weak spot in the Malfoy’s wards. 

The peacock barn, Pansy knew, lay on the Southernmost edge of the grounds, and was reachable by skirting around a few of the decorative gardens, which, in Pansy’s time, held a multitude of flowers and shrubs and were one of Narcissa’s pride and joy. Back now, however, Pansy soon realised, they had not been yet converted into the botanical masterpieces she was used to, and they lay, tidy but empty, as though waiting for instruction. Even in their current predicament, it bothered Pansy, who made a mental note to remind Narcissa to fill the flower beds.

 

* * *

14 Years Earlier & 6 Years Later

_ “Na-Nass-Na-issa?” _

_ The older woman smiled down at Pansy with a fondness Pansy, even at such a young age rare witnessed from even her own mother. “Yes, Pansy?” _

_ “You should be pretty flowers in this bit of the garden.” _

_ “Do you know, Pansy, I used to have a friend who told me the exact same thing.” _

_ “Oh. Is your friend not here now?” _

_ “No, she’s moved away for a while.” _

_ “Oh,” Pansy repeated. “Are you sad.” _

_ Narcissa smiled down at the little girl once more. “No, I’m not sad, because I know I’ll see her again.” _

_ Nodding, Pansy felt satisfied with Narcissa’s answer. Narcissa was always kind to her when she visited Draco, and Pansy definitely didn’t want Narcissa to feel sad about anything, and certainly not about missing friends. “I hope you see your friend really,” she elongated the word, “soon.” _

_ “I’m sure I will. Pansy?” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Would you like to help me choose some flowers for the beds?” _

_ Pansy giggled and then nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! We’ll put all the flowers to bed because they’re sleepy!” she screamed with laughter at her own joke. “Oh! Let’s choose lots of pansies!” _

 

* * *

“I think we’re close now,” Regulus muttered and Pansy nodded in response.

“We are, can you see the side of the barn? Behind that tree?”

“Oh, yeah. Thank Merlin!”

Pansy was already able to feel the thrum of powerful magic of the wards. The charms were ancient, a few of them, Pansy guessed, probably dating back to some of the earliest Malfoys. Thankfully though, Regulus, wand pointed upwards from his spare hand, was able to locate the weak spot which enabled them to step through without much difficulty. 

Once free of the wards, Pansy turned and snorted at the fact she was greeted with a view of fields and trees, with no buildings in her line of sight whatsoever. The magic of the wards felt much fainted on this side, and had Pansy not just walked through it, she knew she probably wouldn’t have felt it at all. 

“Okay,” Regulus began, rummaging in his pocket for the portkey, “Agh!”

Pansy’s face whirled to him, “What’s wrong?”

Regulus had wrenched his hand free from Pansy’s, and was holding his left forearm with his right hand, he pulled his sleeve up to his elbow and Pansy looked down to see the snake of Regulus’s dark mark wriggle, its mouth snapping menacingly. Pansy had never seen the Mark during a summon, but she was fairly certain that’s exactly what she was looking at. 

“You’re being called.”

Regulus’s eyes darkened. “Let’s get you to the lake house quickly.”

Pansy nodded, and held out her hand to grab onto the pocket watch that Regulus had pulled out and was now holding outwards, she grabbed onto the cool metal and met Regulus’s eyes with her own. Nodding once, she held his gaze and waited for him to activate the object. 

Regulus tapped the pocketwatch twice and murmured “Portus,” and Pansy had little time for thought as she was jolted as though by a giant hook, and they were whooshed through the air and landed, seconds later, by a large lake. The house, which was really more of a log cabin, itself just to Pansy’s left, looked a few decades old, but nice enough. Pansy breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. 

“C’mon,” Regulus said, his demeanor hurried and his brow furrowed as he offered his hand to her once more, which Pansy took without question, and the pair walked towards the house. 

There were a number of enchantments guarding the property, but as Narcissa had predicted, they were nothing Regulus couldn’t handle and within minutes, they were walking in the front door. 

“Thank you,” Pansy said, her voice suddenly uncharacteristically small.

Regulus smiled at her words, which instantly turned into a grimace. “He’s summoning you again?” Pansy asked, her eyes wide, if there was one thing she could guarantee she  _ did  _ know about Voldemort, it was that he didn’t take too kindly to being kept waiting. 

Not bothering to speak a response, Pansy gasped as Regulus, who had been regarding her with his intense, dark brown eyes, placed his palms on each side of her face and gently brought his lips to hers. It was soft and hard all at once and lit a flame within Pansy that she didn’t want to go out, but then it was over and she hated every millisecond that he was pulling away from her with an intensity she’d rarely felt with anything else. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he whispered. 

And then he was gone in a moment and a crack of apparition and Pansy’s breathing was suddenly raspy as her eyes pooled with tears of uncertainty. She wanted to scream and shout and tantrum her way out of the mess that was the screaming truth that she was somehow in a time that wasn’t hers, with a man that shouldn’t be hers, considering she knew he was dead around the time she was born, but that she wanted more than she had ever wanted anything, or anyone. 

In one swift movement, she dove her hand into her pocket and found the curved, metal of the Time-Turner, and wrenched it upwards, where she allowed it to swing on its chain whilst she glared. 

  
“Why did you bring me here?!” She demanded, her voice beginning to choke. “Why do you want me to be with him?!” Pansy let out a scream that started, much to a weird feeling of relief, the reaction her body needed to cry, and cry she did, her tears erupting from her in sobs. “IT’S BEEN TWO DAYS,” Pansy screamed at the Turner, her mind was alight with guilt and fear and the unwavering knowledge that, were she able to, and if she knew that the second she tried he wouldn’t hex her into submission for even attempting it, she would march right back to Malfoy Manor and take whatever punishment he would surely obtain for his lateness. Pansy blanched with a sudden wave of nausea at the realisation of how much she now cared for this should-be stranger. She once more rounded on the Time-Turner. It wasn’t normal, it simply  _ wasn’t  _ normal, and yet it felt so infuriatingly like the most natural and normal thing in the world that Pansy even cursed herself for daring to question the normality of something that she knew was right. “WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS AFTER TWO FUCKING DAYS?!”


	15. Cabin Fever, Guilt, and Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It. Has. Been. An. Age. And. I'm. So. Sorry!
> 
> In my defence, I've been a bit preoccupied growing my latest miniature human (;

 

One day, five hours, thirteen minutes. 

 

Pansy seethed, as she cast her sixth  _ Reparo  _ of the last hour. She knew that she really ought to stop breaking random items that were housed within the Black family lake house, but it was slowly becoming the only activity she felt she had left. In the way of activities, her options were very, very limited. There were a handful of books; all ancient and stating various aspects of pureblood history. Pansy glared at them, not so much because of the fact that she generally found old pureblood laws and beliefs ridiculous -  _ because mixing the table wine with the kept blood of your dead ancestors is  _ such _ a fabulous idea,  _ but more so because she knew ninety percent of the information within them off by heart, and thus reading them seemed to create even more boredom than not reading, or doing anything. 

 

The lake house, which was more of a cabin than anything else, was pleasant enough. The views from the large windows looked down through large pine trees onto a lake, and a number of forest dwelling creatures could be heard from the veranda. The house was fairly open plan, the kitchen leading straight into the living area, and there were five large bedrooms upstairs. As far as hiding places went, Pansy knew she couldn’t entirely complain about the one she was currently residing in. 

 

There was also the matter of food, and moreso, the fact she now had exactly none. It did nothing at all to reduce Pansy’s nervousness or irritability. She was able to conjure herself clean drinking water well enough, but it was impossible for her to conjure any food. 

 

She had deliberated hunting, not that she particularly had much experience in the matter, but surely she’d manage to catch  _ something.  _ But that plan failed spectacularly when Pansy learned rather quickly that she wasn’t able to set foot outside the house, and whenever she tried she was catapulted backwards inside once more by some unknown, magical ward. 

 

The Time-Turner, the vibrations of which had taken on a whole new erratic pulse which was almost constant, had been hidden in an upstairs drawer, for Pansy, after glaring at the object for half an hour, had grown tired of trying to decipher the meaning of its distress? relief? happiness? And found the constant presence of the thing made her ever-present anxiety worse. 

 

She thought a lot, well, she had no option in the matter really, primarily of Regulus and the fact that the last human contact that she had felt was their kiss. Which had been all at once one of the shortest, but yet the most powerful kiss she’d ever had. But where was he now?  _ I’ll be back as soon as I can,  _ that’s what he’d said. Surely he’d have been able to come back sooner than a day? Surely? But, what if...she didn’t know the exact date after all, or the reasons...the fear hurt her heart to the point she was left a screaming, dishevelled mess, and so she did her best to deny its existence. 

 

And so she snoozed, attempted to ignore the grotesque gurgling noises her stomach made and the empty nauseous feeling that was regularly overtaking her, broke things in bouts of explosive rage as she wandered around her odd, basically untraceable prison and worried about Narcissa, who she had literally no ideas, awful or otherwise, that could explain her absence, and Regulus and wondered why on Earth they had apparently abandoned her here to starve. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Three days, five hours, thirty-six minutes.

 

She was pacing the outside veranda trying to ignore the overwhelming feeling of faint and hopelessness when she heard it. A very audible, almost echoing crack, that broke through the trees like a bolt. Apparition! She’d know that noise anywhere, since it had been ingrained into her from people apparating around her since she was a baby. She spun on the ball of her foot, adrenaline she wouldn’t have believed she’d be able to feel suddenly coursing through her, and practically sprinted inside, where she was met by a single, unexpected figure, which wasn’t either of the two she had expected. 

 

“Hello,” Pansy blurted, knowing she was failing to hide her bitter disappointment, which was threatening to spill from her in more tears. 

 

The elf bowed. “Mistress wishes Brindle to inform Miss Pansy that she is terribly sorry she has been unable to come herself,” Brindle stated, looking up at Pansy through a pair of large, slightly watery eyes. Dropping her voice to not much more than a whisper, Brindle continued, “the Dark Lord is not happy, Miss Pansy, the party wasn’t a party,” she dipped her head, “it was never supposed to be a party.”

 

Pansy’s eyes had widened as the elf spoke. “And Narcissa...Regulus, are they?”

 

Brindle nodded. “Mistress is fine, Miss Pansy, if a little shaken. The Muggles, they left many bloodstains. But Brindle believes she will be okay,”  _ Muggles? _ Pansy let out the breath she had been holding, silently urging the small elf to continue. “Mr Regulus...is less fine. He was punished for lateness, you see, and was tortured. It...it was bad. Brindle assisted in his care.”

 

Pansy’s heart pounded in her chest and she felt her knees want to cease holding her upright. “But…” she began, terrified, “he’s okay? He’ll be okay?”

 

“Brindle believes he will, yes,” the elf replied. “He was in a bad way, and then the Dark Lord revived him...and then made him go on dangerous mission-”

 

“What?” Pansy interjected.

 

Brindle nodded sadly. “Brindle knows, Miss Pansy, Brindle knows. Mr Regulus took many more curses on the mission yesterday and needed care again. Mistress had wished to come here, to see Miss Pansy and give her food and clothes but the Dark Lord made Mistress stay by his side, along with Master Lucius, and all the elves had to be accounted for at all times.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Now, the Dark Lord has left the Manor again, Miss. Mistress is tending to Mr Regulus with the other elves and she has sent Brindle to tend to Miss Pansy. Mistress says as soon as Mr Regulus is strong enough to apparate, and it is safe for them to do so, she will bring him here. 

 

Pansy’s breaths were deep and her thoughts raced through her mind as though sped up. “Okay,” she finally said. She wanted to go back to the Manor, she wanted to apparate there right now, but she knew, even without Brindle’s  _ Mistress thinks you should stay here, Miss Pansy, she doesn’t believe it safe at the Manor for you until things have settled, she has instructed Brindle to keep the charms in place,  _ she knew Narcissa would insist on her staying where she was. 

 

“How long do you think it’ll be before Regulus is strong enough to apparate?”

 

“A few days, Miss, a few days,” Brindle replied, before busying herself with a small handled basket that had been standing, unbeknownst to Pansy, at the elf’s feet. Clearly having been treated to an extension charm, Brindle was able to pull out several outfit changes, various soaps and shampoos, and most importantly, Pansy’s eyes widened, food. 

 

“What would you like Brindle to make, Miss?”

 

Pansy wanted her appetite to vanish, it didn’t feel right for her to be so focussed on her stomach when Regulus was so badly hurt, but she hadn’t eaten in three days and the agonising, clawing sensation inside her felt as though if she didn’t eat soon, she’d simply cease to exist, was too great. 

 

_ I’ll see him soon,  _ she repeated for what already felt like the hundredth time. 

 

“If I could Brindle, right now I’d eat you. Anything will do.”

 

* * *

 

Six days, thirteen hours and five minutes

 

They had spent the past three days in an anxious limbo. She had food now, at least, and the knowledge that she hadn’t been forgotten about, and that both Regulus and Narcissa had planned to arrive when they were able to. But Pansy’s cabin fever, guilt and fear that something else had gone wrong in Brindle’s absence were multiplying by the second.

 

Until, when Brindle was dusting a cabinet for the third time that day, and Pansy was sitting in the same chair she had been for the past two hours, they finally heard the pair of agonisingly familiar voices. 

 

“I’d honestly forgotten how  _ decrepit  _ this place is,” she heard Narcissa say as Pansy jumped to her feet, not quite trusting that her eyes were really looking upon the sight. She stood for approximately one second before she took off across the open plan cabin at speed.

 

“Looks alright to me, a bit-”

 

But Regulus’s words were drowned out and muffled against Pansy’s shoulder, as the witch launched herself against his chest, her arms snaking about his neck as she breathed in the knowledge that he was okay, and he was here, with her, and alive. 

 

She felt his chest rise and fall in quick succession in time with his soft chuckle and she tightened her hold of him as he brought his face inwards, against the side of her head, and whispered against her ear, “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

 


	16. A Very Nice Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weekly updates again! Yippeeeeee!

She hadn’t thought, or cared, about too much else when, standing there just inside the front door of the lake house, she’d crashed her lips against his. She knew Narcissa was only a metre or two away, and Brindle was most likely watching their reunion in earnest. She heard the  _ Oh!  _ of surprise from somewhere to her right, but she chose to ignore it, opting instead to focus any and all of her energy on her lips moving in sync with his. 

 

His arms had wrapped themselves around her, moving across her back before settling by her hips, where he gripped her, holding her in place. She didn’t know how long they stayed there, locked together, she sensed it was quite a while, for a kiss anyway, by the fact she seemed to be in dire need of a gasping-for-breath break, whilst simultaneously she knew she’d never want to stop. 

 

Ultimately, they did eventually break apart, and Pansy could scarcely remember a time she’d ever wished to kiss someone only milliseconds after having just done so. His hands left her hips and found their way to her own hands, his fingertips lacing gently through her own as they stood, for the moment unspeaking, retaining the breath each had lost on the other. 

 

“That,” Regulus eventually began, “was a very nice welcome.”

 

Pansy snorted. “Hi,” she said, “I might have missed you...a small amount.”

 

“Only a small amount?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Oh,  _ small  _ is an exaggeration,” she replied, smiling for the first time since arriving as she allowed him to pull her a half-step forwards and meet her mouth with his for a far briefer than she would have liked kiss. 

 

“I’ve been so fucking worried,” she whispered, leaning forward more still to place her mouth at his ear, as she felt his arms wrap themselves this time around her shoulders. 

 

“I know,” he replied, placing a single, lingering kiss on her forehead.  

 

Breaking apart, Pansy turned to find that Narcissa, apparently not content with standing whilst Pansy and Regulus attempting to break a world record for longest kiss, had moved into the living area and was being served a cup of tea by Brindle, and was watching the now approaching couple with an air of amusement. 

 

“Nice to see you too, Pansy,” Narcissa said dryly, taking a sip of her tea. 

 

“Oh, yeah,” Pansy replied, somewhat sheepishly, as she and Regulus made their way towards a nearby armchair. Regulus sat first, before pulling Pansy onto his lap, something she was more than happy to allow. “How are you?” she asked, turning to face Narcissa. 

 

“Well, I’ve spent the better part of a week covered in  _ his,”  _ she nodded towards Regulus, her eyes slightly narrowed, “blood. I’ve had a maniac taking over my house and this is the first cup of tea I’ve drank in days,” she ended with a dramatic sigh. “Everything else has been manageable, but the lack of tea has been simply unbearable,” she continued, “I’m sure you understand, Pansy.”

 

“Absolutely,” Pansy answered, feeling one of Regulus’s hands gently run itself through her hair. 

 

“On a serious note,” Narcissa began, pointedly, “this one  _ should not  _ attempt anything strenuous for at least a few weeks,” her eyes narrowed once more, clearly addressing Pansy, “if I find out any of those wounds have opened again, I’m coming after you.”

 

“Me?” Pansy answered, innocently. 

 

“Yes,” Narcissa snapped, “you. Don’t think I missed that ludicrous display over there,” she nodded towards the door. “I certainly have no desire to police your,” she paused, clearly searching for words, “actions, but if you wouldn’t mind being gentle with him, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

 

Letting a most uncharacteristic giggle escape her lips at Narcissa’s words, Pansy shifted her body slightly, preparing to rise from Regulus’s lap. “Duly noted.” 

 

“No, stay there, you being there doesn’t hurt me at all,” he said, closing his arms over her stomach and holding her in place. 

 

“Maybe, but me being there might cause  _ her, _ ” she pointed to Narcissa, “to hurt  _ me _ .”

 

Narcissa scoffed into her tea, “You sitting on his lap wasn’t exactly what I was referring to,” she said with a knowing look. 

 

“Oh, I know  _ exactly  _ what you were  _ referring  _ to,” Pansy snapped, much to Regulus’s amusement, “and frankly, I think you need to get your mind out of the gutter.”

 

Narcissa drunk the last of her tea and rose from her seat. “Perhaps, although I really doubt that is the case,” she said wickedly. “I should get back to the Manor.”

 

Pansy had suspected that Narcissa wouldn’t be able to stay and nodded in response. “Is everything...okay?”

 

Dropping her gaze to the floor, Narcissa shrugged. “No, not particularly. Regulus can fill you in on all the details.”

 

Pansy untangled herself from Regulus’s arms and rose also. She took a few steps towards Narcissa. Pausing, she regarded the older witch. “Thank you,” she eventually mustered. The two words felt feeble and unworthy of stating everything she wished to express, but they were all she had, and somehow she knew that Narcissa knew that. 

 

Narcissa offered the smallest hint of a smile before nodding her head towards Regulus. “I’ll leave Brindle here, her basket works like a vanishing cabinet, its brother is at the Manor, I shall send what I can.” She paused and brought her palm to Pansy’s shoulder, before her eyes travelled past her, to the one sitting in the seat she’d just left. “Look after him,” Narcissa added, “he’s not out of the woods yet. ”

 

Pansy glanced back at her...what? Boyfriend? The thought seemed equal parts preposterous and the absolute truth. She smiled, briefly, at Regulus, before turning back to Narcissa. “I will.”

 

“Good, I’ll see you when I can,” she said, before turning briskly and, wrapping a snug black coat around her shoulders, exited the cabin to the portkey point. 

 

She stood looking at the door for a long moment, before, having been too lost in her thoughts to hear him get up, she felt Regulus’s arms encase her and his lips meet the point just behind her left ear. Her head fell backwards against his shoulder as she took the second she needed to appreciate, again, the fact that he was here. 

 

“I think we should probably talk,” she murmured, humming slightly as he kissed the side of her neck. 

 

“No...talk….just kiss,” Regulus stuttered between kisses. 

 

After allowing herself a last moment of enjoyment, Pansy moved forward, away from Regulus, who uttered a noise of irritation, and turned to face him. “We’re going to go upstairs,” she said.

 

“Oh, okay,” Regulus replied with a grin, “that’s fine by me.”

 

Pansy shot him a look of amusement. “ _ Not  _ for that, your mind also needs to retract itself from the gutter.”

 

“Well, how exactly am I supposed to do that when the gutter is so beautiful.”

 

“That is single-handedly the nicest and most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me,” Pansy retorted as she took his hand in hers and began to lead him towards the stairs. “You are going to have a bath.”

 

“With you?” Regulus asked, hopefully. 

 

Pansy raised her eyebrows and turned her face towards him. “No,” she answered, with the hint of a feigned sternness. “And after that, you’re going to eat a hot meal in bed-”

 

“With you?” he asked again, shooting her a grin and a wink.

 

“Well, I will  _ be  _ there,” she answered, “but essentially, to what  _ you  _ are asking, no.”

 

“Aww…”

 

“And then we’re going to talk about everything that happened, and,” she paused, shooting him a small smile, “us.”

 

“I do like us,” Regulus mumbled as they began to alight the stairs, Pansy ahead and him with some difficulty, a very present grimace present on his face with each step. Pansy’s watched him, helping him as much she could, with a heavy heart.

 

“And then, and  _ only _ then,” Pansy said, coyly, as they reached the upstairs landing, at which Regulus let out a big sigh of relief, “there  _ might  _ be some more kissing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for some lemonssssssss... *smirks*


	17. Two Battered Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year...my gift to you is this lemony goodness (;

They walked, his arm around her shoulders, not in the display of affection it should have been, but in assistance for him to move in a straight line. The elation - she hoped it was elation anyway, at seeing Pansy having since faded and the strenuous climb of the flight of stairs had left him in agony and with trouble walking even the short distance to the bedroom that Pansy had claimed as her own days ago. 

 

Pansy had busied Brindle with the task of running Regulus a bath and she could hear the elf had started running the water and fetching the towels and soap that he would need as she guided him into the room and the edge of the bed. He slumped down and, Pansy suspected, had she not been at his side to provide something to remain upright against, he would have fallen over onto the covers entirely. He let out a small groan and she felt his head flop onto her shoulder. 

 

“This is most emasculating,” he said with another groan. 

 

She gave a soft laugh as she attempted to hide how worried she now was. Downstairs he’d  _ seemed  _ okay, but here, after only climbing one set of stairs, it was as though he were broken, and she knew she had no idea the extent at what he’d been through over the past almost week. “I think I can find it within myself to overlook that,” she whispered. 

 

“That’s very gracious of you,” she heard Regulus reply from her shoulder. 

 

“I’m a very gracious person,” Pansy said, and turned her head to face her left as the door to the ensuite opened and Brindle appeared, holding a soft white towel. “Mr Regulus’s bath is ready now, Miss Pansy.”

 

Pansy nodded to the elf in thanks, who gave her a bow. “Is there anything else required of Brindle, Miss?”

 

“Would you sort him a meal, for afterwards?” Pansy asked.

 

Brindle bowed again. “Brindle will fetch you  _ both _ a meal for afterwards,” the elf stated, her manner polite yet pointed and Pansy had a suspicion that were she to turn down the meal, Brindle wouldn’t hesitate to tell her off, and so she relented. 

 

“Thank you, Brindle.”

 

After bowing for a third and final time, Brindle exited the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Pansy turned her head back forwards and began, carefully, to stand. 

 

“Come on,” she said, matter of factly, “into your bath.”

 

Regulus’s eyes were closed and he was swaying slightly as though keeping his upper body upright was taking a lot of effort. “Don’t want to…” he muttered. 

 

“I know, but  _ I  _ want you to,” Pansy replied as she slid her fingers around the bottom of his jumper and began to pull it upwards. Regulus’s eyes snapped open. 

 

“Well,” he began, clearly trying very hard to avoid grimacing in pain again, “I won’t say no to you undressing me.”

 

“Shh you,” Pansy said, not unkindly, as she removed the jumper, and then his shirt, from his person. At the sight of his bare torso, she gasped. “Oh, Regulus! What did he  _ do  _ to you?”

 

Regulus’s stomach, sides and back were covered, almost entirely, in marks; angry, still red and some that looked as though they’d been incredibly deep. Around them, in most areas of skin that didn’t have the remains of a deep cut, was bruising, in different hues of purple, pink, and yellow.

 

“I’d  _ like  _ to say  _ You should see the other guy,”  _ Regulus began, “but well, the other guy is fine,” he ended with a snort and a sharp inhale of air as he twisted slightly. 

 

Offering her hands to him, Pansy helped Regulus to stand and, suddenly nervous, in spite of his remarks which they both knew were solely in jest, there was nothing sexual about her undressing him, but Pansy still felt her heart race slightly as her fingers found their way to the button of his trousers. And, as though he’d heard the words  _ nothing sexual  _ escape her brain and wished to challenge that fact, Regulus, with another small groan of pain, leant downwards and caught Pansy’s mouth in a soft kiss. 

 

She ought to have stopped him,  _ that’s what any decent caregiver would do _ , Pansy scolded herself, but really, Pansy Parkinson was simply  _ not  _ a decent caregiver, and so she did entirely the opposite of what Regulus needed, and kissed him back, snaking her arms, as gently as she could, around his neck and allowing him, despite the fact she suspected it was incredibly painful for him to do so, to pull her against his bare torso. 

 

Regulus groaned again, although Pansy thought, gratefully, that this one seemed less in pain and more in pleasure as his hands which had settled first on her hips, had moved downwards and were resting at the top of her behind. 

 

It was only their fourth kiss, but it felt like the thousandth as they pressed into each other, her fingertips searching upwards, and digging through his hair into his scalp. His own hands moved down even further, until he was palming her behind, which he used as leverage to pull her into him even closer still. 

 

And she pushed all of her worry and confusion and guilt that she felt over the fact he was punished by Voldemort because he was bringing her here into kissing him, and although she didn’t know  _ what _ exactly, she did know that he was putting a whole lot into kissing her. 

 

Two battered souls; one existing and never truly living, in years not yet reached, hurtled through time for the sole purpose, of which she had no doubt now, of finding him. And one that lived a lifetime of uncertainty and rules he neither agreed with nor wanted, waiting for her. 

 

He pulled away from the kiss but not from her, and pressed his forehead to hers, both were breathing heavily and neither spoke for a moment that could have been half a minute, or ten. 

 

“I need you,” he said eventually, his hands moving upwards, away from her behind, and beneath her top, onto her bare back. “I  _ need _ you,” he repeated, the words barely a whisper and yet they roared in her heart. 

 

She didn’t allow herself to think of what was best, because what was best was Regulus having a bath and then resting, she knew that, but right now, she deliberated for the fraction of a second it took before she began to walk, pushing him gently backwards, back towards the bed, that perhaps what he needed emotionally could possibly be even more important than what he needed physically. 

 

His hands were still resting just beneath the hem of her top, and as she began to move them she felt him simultaneously begin to kiss her again, grabbing hem and tugging her top upwards and over her head, barely missing a second of kissing her as the garment was discarded. His hands moved back to her back and she felt him roam his fingertips over her bare flesh, at first the small of her back, and then upwards as he traced imaginary patterns over the skin of her back and then her stomach, before he stopped, and she realised that the back of his legs must have met the side of the bed. 

 

Breaking apart their kisses, Regulus sat downwards, his face contorting in pain for the second he needed to bend, before he reached his arms upwards, to Pansy, who was already climbing onto him, as carefully as she could. Once she was there, straddling him, he allowed himself a second to bore his eyes into her, his gaze searching hungrily over her mostly exposed upper body, before he placed his hands on either side of her face, pulling her mouth to meet his once more and then lowered himself, and her, backwards onto the duvet. 

 

She hesitated momentarily, scared to press her weight fully onto him and his wounds but he only wove his fingers through her hair and kissed her with more enthusiasm. 

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered against his mouth as she held her torso slightly above his. 

 

She felt him smile in response, “Come here, baby.”

 

“But-”

 

“Come here,” he repeated, and Pansy allowed him to guide her upper body fully downwards so that she was lying entirely on top of him. “See, you can’t hurt me.”

 

“That’s lovely,” she said between kisses, “but not true, are you okay to move up to the pillows?”

 

He threw her a very un-Regulus smirk even despite his pain which sent a shiver of giggles through Pansy. They moved slowly, stealing kisses every few seconds but eventually ended up lying in the centre of the large bed, facing each other side by side, her finger lacing through one of his belt loops and the tips of his own fingers stroking through her hair. 

 

“You’re perfect,” he said and she scoffed, but before she could rebuff him, he stole the words she had yet to speak by pressing his lips against hers. “Don’t fight me on this,” he said, pulling slightly back. 

 

“That goes against all of my primary instincts,” she whispered. 

 

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied, “but considering how much I currently resemble a dodgy watercolour, just humour me, won’t you?”

 

She gave him a fraction of a frown before her expression betrayed her and she was unable to stop herself from smiling any more. “I suppose.”

 

Regulus grinned mischievously, and Pansy became aware that his hand had removed itself from her hair and was currently trailing its way down her side, before eventually reaching the top of her jeans, where he mimicked the way she had been playing with his belt loop. 

 

“What have you done to me?” Regulus murmured as Pansy planted a series of small kisses along his bottom lip. Sitting up slightly, she maneuvered herself onto her behind, using her elbows to prop herself up and a seductively wicked smile played over her lips as she looked over at Regulus, before she moved her fingers to deftly undo the button of her jeans, she wiggled this way and that before she was finally able to discard them entirely. 

 

Thankfully, out of the clothes Narcissa had packed for her in Brindle’s basket, the underwear was lovely, and Pansy, despite not caring when she had selected them, thanked her past self for choosing a pair of lacy green knickers that Regulus was currently, with great difficulty because of his injuries, admiring. Pansy smiled, before leaning over and granting him one quick, chaste kiss, before she rose up onto her knees and straddled his legs. She began to do the same to his trousers that she had done to her own jeans and before long she had separated them from their owner and Pansy, taking her time and smirking at the way he was looking up at her; with a raw longing, once more took her place above him, sitting atop his crotch, one part in particular of which she was  _ very  _ aware of. 

 

She looked at the figure beneath her, with his tousled hair and torn apart torso, and, as he gently bucked his hips upwards, against her, she heard herself let out a moan, full of all the wanting and need she felt for him. An experience so intense and passionate and extraordinary that the mere thought of how she felt for Regulus Black after only a week was enough to make her head spin and her heart ache. 

 

And so she didn’t. She didn’t think, she simply felt. As she undid her bra she felt the way he caressed her breasts, at first with his hands and then, after he coaxed her downwards, with his mouth. She was able to feel the way his heart quickened as she sat upright just long enough to take first her, and then his, underwear off. She felt every movement his tongue made against hers as she positioned herself over him, and she felt every centimetre of him inside of her as she lowered her most private area over his. She then felt his fingers trailing over her thighs, inwards, and eventually how they began to brush, gently at first but with increasing intensity over her most sensitive spot as she moved up and down on top of him. 

 

She felt her orgasm crash over her and, a few minutes later, she felt his. And afterwards, she felt the way his hands trailed over her back as she lay, both panting together, on top of him. 

 

Regulus’s arms tightened around her. “That was incredible,” he said, “you’re incredible.”

 

She kissed part of bruise chest. “And you,” she said with a grin, “really need that bath.”

  
  
  



	18. Two Hearts, Four Hands & Two Souls

It had taken far longer than it should have to get Regulus successfully into the bathtub. Although his demeanour was far chipper than it had been the last time Pansy had attempted to guide him towards the en-suite, for the sex, as wonderful as he kept telling her he’d found it, had exhausted his already weakened body even more. 

  
  
  
“I really should feel guilty, for making you even worse,” Pansy said with a sigh as Regulus finally managed to lower himself into the newly reheated bubbly water.    
  
  
  
Regulus raised an eyebrow as he began to relax.“But you don’t, because you’re clearly a massive sadist.”   
  
  
  
“Clearly,” she repeated, pulling the dressing gown she’d placed over her naked frame tighter as she began to look for soap and a sponge. Upon finding the items, she began to run the sponge over the parts of Regulus she could reach, determined to do so gently and not disturb his healing any more than she already must have done.    
  
  
  
“You know,” he began, his eyes were closed but he was wearing a sly grin that she was starting to recognise, “you’d find that easier to do from in here.”   
  
  
  
Pansy scoffed. “Nice try.”   
  
  
  
“It’s a big tub,” he replied with a shrug.   
  
  
  
“That’s hardly the-”   
  
  
  
“And you’re already naked. It’d be a shame to waste all that nakedness.”   
  
  
Pansy rolled her eyes she began to run her hands through Regulus’s hair. “Oh, yes. What a travesty that would be.”   
  
  
  
“I’m glad you see my point.”   
  
  
  
“You are ridiculous.”   
  
  
  
He half-opened one eye, briefly, “What if I just said it’d make me feel better?”   
  
  
  
Pansy surveyed him for exactly ten seconds before an overwhelming Fuck it overtook the rest of her protesting thoughts. Standing up, she lifted a hand and tousled his hair once more before, much to the watching Regulus’s delight, she slowly undid the tie of the robe and let the towelling fabric fall to the floor behind her feet. Not removing her eyes from his, she began to move, slowly, into the bath.    
  
  
  
She sat first at the other end to Regulus, who hadn’t taken his eyes from her. He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.    
  
  
  
“Come here,” he said, his voice raspy.    
  
  
  
“Regulus,” Pansy began, purposefully making her voice sound sterner than she meant, “I’m in here to help you wash because of your injuries, I am not here to-”   
  
  
  
“Come here,” he repeated, not for the first time since they had entered the bedroom, and yet again she ignored the voices shouting at her to stop succumbing to his invitations.    
  
  
  
She ended up leaning between his legs with her back against his stomach and her head on his chest, his arms enveloping her. “I usually have far more self-control than this,” she mumbled, feigning the grump in her tone.    
  
  
  
“If you expect me to be sorry at all that I’m the reason your self-control fails, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” he murmured somewhere close to her right ear before placing a kiss on the top of her head.    
  
  
  
She laughed, not caring in the moment, which wasn’t something that happened particularly often, to come back with a witty response. Instead, she hummed gently and laced her fingers through his, her palms resting on the backs of his hands as they lay together, forgetting the complications of their situation and that fact Regulus was gravely hurt and, by the laws of both logic and magic Pansy shouldn’t be there, instead, they simply were; two hearts beating as one and four hands clasping together as two souls did the same.    
  
  
  
“I’ve never had a bath with someone before,” Pansy shared after a while, her voice lazy as she concentrated on the line of kisses that Regulus was currently planting along her shoulder.    
  
  
  
“Me neither,” he replied, his thumbs moving in circles over Pansy’s stomach “I definitely don’t hate it, though.”   
  
  
  
She laughed at his words and disentangled herself from Regulus’s limbs as carefully as she could. Turning to face him she began, once again, the process of washing him, along with herself.    
  
  
  
“I actually don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time naked with someone at once.”   
  
  
  
At her latest admission, Regulus, with difficulty, though to Pansy’s relief it seemed like slightly less difficulty than before, perhaps the hot water is helping, she thought, leant forward and took her right hand in his left. Leading her arm upwards his eyes bored into hers as he brought her palm to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss on the wet skin. Pansy’s breathing quickened slightly as she watched him and felt him move her arm again, this time enough so that he could plant a similar kiss on the inside of her wrist.    
  
  
  
“I don’t know why you’re here, in this time, Pansy Parkinson,” he said, “and I don’t know how it's possible to feel about you the way I do in such a short space of time, but I wouldn’t change it. I’d never change it.”   
  
  
  
Pansy felt a rush of heat to her cheeks at his words and a rush of… something else to her chest. She didn’t know the answers to his words either, but she knew she shared the same feelings he did. Having had a few boyfriends in her later years at Hogwarts, and an awkward, on and off whatever the hell it was with Draco that they both knew was foolish and forced. But her past experiences felt nothing like this. This feels…   
  
  
  
“Real,” she said aloud without meaning to, causing her cheeks to redden again, this time with slight embarrassment. The realisation had hit her like a ton of bricks, the truth she had never quite managed to put into coherent thought before, let alone words.    
  
  
  
“Pardon?”   
  
  
  
Pansy took a breath as her left hand fiddled with a particular set of bubbles, catching them in her palm only to release them back into the water whilst her right moved to rest on Regulus’s shoulder.    
  
  
  
“This,” she began, nervous that her words were going to trip up on her, “feels real.”


	19. Siren's Call

They settled into something of a routine at the lake house, lazily spending their days reading - thankfully better books were one of the things that Narcissa and Regulus had managed to bring with them, exploring the grounds around the lake - apparently a lack of Black blood was what was stopping Pansy from leaving the house during the week she spent there without Regulus, and when accompanied by the youngest Black heir they were able to walk around the vicinity of the lake, and each becoming acquainted, in almost every perceivable way, with the other. The latter tended to involve a copious amount of time spent in each other’s arms, usually naked.     

Before long, Pansy realised it was their tenth day spent at the house. They had heard every few days from Narcissa that she was fine but Voldemort was still, despite having left for a short few days, once again opting to reside in Malfoy Manor. Luckily, he hadn’t called upon Regulus’s service for the entirety of the time he had been at the lake house, which meant his injuries had had a real chance to heal, and despite the sometimes vigorous activities he had partaken in with Pansy, he had been mostly able to rest.

“He’s a bit of a grumpy shit to everyone, but he’s alright,” Regulus said with a snort.

“Who on Earth named him? Kreature is an awful name.”

“Merlin knows,” Regulus replied. “I’m sure he’s missing me though, I’m his favourite.”

Pansy turned her head to face him and was amused by the slightly goofy grin he wore when discussing his House Elf’s owner preference. He shuffled her behind slightly on the pebbles they were currently sitting upon and she shot him a bright smile and gave him a quick kiss before turning her attention back to the slowly setting sun that they were watching from the shore of the lake.

“What was that for?” she heard him whisper, his mouth close to her ear.

“Being you,” she said softly as he pulled his arms, and the large, tartan blanket they were currently sitting beneath, over them tighter.

She was positioned entirely in front of him, between his legs, a location that had quickly become Pansy’s favourite place to be, in whatever scenario she happened to be there in. Laying her head backwards, she rest against his chest and whispered, “I love lakes.”

“I miss the Hogwarts one,” Regulus remarked, and Pansy nodded in agreement. It was one of the things she had loved most about being a Slytherin, having both a common room and dormitory that looked right into the great expanse of loch was something Pansy had always adored.

A shiver ran through her as the sun dipped lower still, and she felt Regulus cast a slightly stronger warming charm on the blanket.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she informed him, “I don’t mind being cold,” she took a breath as a plan began to formulate in her mind’s eye.

“Oh, good!” he replied, “I much prefer the cold, but I didn’t want you to think I was anything but the upstanding gentleman I am.”

“I’d never think anything less of you,” Pansy said, feigning seriousness.

He placed a kiss on the back of her neck. “Good.”

“So,” Pansy began as she summoned the courage she needed, “you like the cold?”

“Mmhmm,” he replied with nuzzle of her neck.

Pansy leaned forwards. “Prove it.”

She felt his frown even without looking. “Excuse me,” he said with a chuckle, “how?”

Pansy rolled her weight to the soles of her feet and rose to standing. Shooting Regulus a look laced with mischief behind her, she began to undress, much to the delight of her companion - if the noises he began to make were anything to go by anyway. She took off first her jumper, and then top, leaving herself only covered on top by a bra. She then began to slowly, knowing that Regulus would be watching her intently, undo her jeans.

Shooting a brief glance over her shoulder, Pansy was pleased to note the sheer look of lust present on his face that she could see clear as day before she turned back around to face the lake, and in a couple of seconds, she had removed her jeans fully and kicked off her shoes. Her bra was next to be removed, and after one final, briefer than brief, look over her shoulder, Pansy began to walk towards the lake, ignoring the sharp iciness she felt when her feet first came into contact with the water. You’re a Slytherin, she scolded herself, before taking a deep breath and walking steadily forwards.

She had reach waist deep in the cold lake when she began to hear splashes that weren’t created by her, behind her, along with several exclamations of Fucking hell, which made Pansy smirk. Once the water was deep enough to cover everything from the top of her chest downwards., she turned around to see the shivering figure that was Regulus, an expression on his face somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

“This is mental,” he stated, and Pansy, who had by this point acclimatised to the cold temperature, simply laughed before taking a deep breath and diving into the water. She swam a few metres to the side and then rose up, drinking in the night air greedily.

Regulus had remained still, shaking his head in disbelief. “What has got into you?”

“No idea!” Pansy replied, “might be the moonlight, might be the water, might be the fact I’m twenty years in the fucking past and it’s finally making me lose it, or,” she swam towards Regulus and, upon reaching him, placed her legs around his waist, “might be you.” She said the words in a rush, suddenly desperate to feel his lips on hers.

She felt him chuckle against her mouth before embracing the kiss fully. “Pansy,” he groaned her name between kisses, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

“I make you swim in freezing cold lakes at night,” she replied, nipping his bare shoulder.

“No,” he stopped the trail of kisses he was placing upon her shoulder and halted, “well, yes, you do, but you make me feel alive, for the first time in my life.”

At some point during their stay at the lake house, she had come to the conclusion she had to either stop what they had, which never felt like an achievable option, given her feelings, or embrace them, and him, and not obsess over the fact she knew of his impending end, and in fact when he said such things to her, it made her even more determined to give herself to him fully. Who was she to deny him the very thing that made him feel alive? Certainly not her, especially when the thing in question, herself, was the easiest thing she had ever given to anyone. So Pansy simply graced him with the widest smile she could muster, feeling everything he said towards her, about him, and kissed him again in response, when a loud crash from the direction of the house suddenly made her blood colder than the water they were in. For a second they did nothing, simply gripping each other in the dark water, neither daring to breath, until the scream echoed through the night, radiating towards them like a siren’s call.


	20. Chosen Regulus

They remained frozen for what might have been one second, or thirty, before instinct took over and they began to run, with water thrust haphazardly in all directions from their hurried movements. It didn’t take long to reach the shore or to dry each other both soundlessly and magically and dress in the moonlight, before making sure their wands were grasped tightly and pointed defensively in front of them, they rushed back towards the house, Pansy only a fraction behind Regulus.

As they approached the large, mostly wooden building, Regulus threw an arm out, which hit Pansy square in the chest. She let out a long, winded sigh and whacked the small of Regulus’s back with her palm.

“Ah! Sorry, but I want you behind me,” he shot over his shoulder in a whisper.

“I’m not completely helpless, you know!” Pansy shot back as they walked stealthily up the wooden steps, towards the decking-clad balcony, and the back door.

He glanced back at her with a furrowed brow. “I know that, but-”

But his words were cut short by a second scream, this one hoarser and held more familiarity to it than the first, and was closer to a shout, followed by a series of crashes.

“Narcissa,” Pansy and Regulus breathed together as they moved, quicker now, and finally approached the back door.

As he opened the door, Regulus’s torso bounced back, his spine bending awkwardly backwards due to his feet staying rooted to the same spot on the decking, as a puff of purple sparks, hovering where just a fraction of a second beforehand, Regulus’s head had been situated, left a perfectly round scorch mark on the nearby wall.

“Woah!” Regulus shouted, his arm still outstretched behind him, preventing Pansy from moving, which was probably a good thing, considering more sparks were congregating close to the doorway. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PLAYING AT?!” he roared as a vase smashed against a nearby window, causing Pansy to jump and grip her free fingers on Regulus’s waist, before promptly letting go and internally cursing herself for an act of such reliance.

“I. AM. DONE!” Pansy heard Narcissa scream, and then, all of a sudden, as though someone had pressed an imaginary off switch, the crashes and shouting ceased and an almost eerie quiet filled the night.

Regulus’s arm fell, although somewhat stiltedly, like he was worried that Narcissa would start firing spells again, which he probably was, and Pansy was able to join him in the doorway. Peering in, she saw something she never had before: a disheveled Narcissa Malfoy, which was something so alien to her that it was that, rather than the smashed up state of the living room, that made her halt in her tracks, her breath hitched somewhere around her throat as she and Regulus stood, staring.

Narcissa didn’t speak for a long moment as she concentrated on regulating her breathing. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly and she held the bridge of her nose carefully between her thumb and index finger. Neither Pansy nor Regulus moved, the latter flashing the former a number of concerned glances in quick succession before he mouthed What the fuck? to the equally bemused Pansy. She shrugged in reply and pushed into his back gently, nudging him inside.

He didn’t move for a few seconds, and Pansy had the distinct impression he wanted to avoid doing anything that might antogonise the clearly already very antagonised Narcissa even more, the thought made her smile inside. Narcissa was a force to be reckoned with, and Pansy felt a rush of pride at the thought. Eventually, after a few more nudges, Regulus, after linking the fingers of his right hand with those on Pansy’s left, began to move into the living room.

“Narcissa?” Pansy asked, her voice featuring a slight shake that she wished it didn’t.

The blonde witch didn’t move for a further few seconds, before she exhaled a single, long breath through her mouth, and opened her eyes, which searched for a few seconds before settling on Pansy and Regulus, still standing by the door.

“I am...terribly sorry about that,” Narcissa said, gesturing aimlessly around the smashed up room, the usual poise and well spokenness wasn’t quite back in its place within her words, but Pansy could see that she was trying hard to compose herself properly. As she continued, Narcissa’s voice returned closer and closer to her familiar tone more with each word. “You’ll both be pleased to know, that you can both return to the Manor now.”

“Oh?” Pansy replied, having grown so accustomed to staying at the lake house. Perhaps considering she had now resided here for a lot longer than she had at the Manor since arriving in the past, she hadn’t thought too much about returning to Malfoy Manor, although she supposed she ought to now that, she assumed, it was free from Voldemort, for the immediate future, at least.

Narcissa’s eyes met Pansy’s. “He’s...gone, for now. I’ve no idea where but I barely got a thank you for the hospitality, not that i’d expect one, but still. It’s been like living in a fucking morgue!” she raved as she began to direct her attention to the handbag Pansy hadn’t noticed before now. She dug in it for a few seconds before bringing forth a bottle of some form of clear spirit.

“You can go back tonight, or whenever,” Narcissa began, as she summoned three glasses with a twitch of her wand, “but first, we’re going to drink this, well,” she paused as she regarded them, “I won’t force either of you to join me, but I intend to drink as much as I possibly can of this, and I’d appreciate the company.”

“I’m in,” Regulus said as he paced forward and took a glass from Narcissa, “did you bring a mixer or…” he asked, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

Narcissa matched his expression before answering as she passed the third glass to an accepting, smiling Pansy. “I did not.”

“Fair enough,” Regulus said with a snort and took a drink of the liquor. “Fuck me, that’s strong.”

“How I like it, darling,” Narcissa said in reply as she moved towards a nearby chair, which she sank into. Pansy and Regulus followed suit and, hands still clasped together, they settled onto a nearby couch. Pansy’s legs draped themselves over Regulus’s as though it was the most natural thing in the world, which, she supposed, it was.

Their position didn’t go unnoticed by Narcissa, who regarded them both with a knowing half-smile. “Are you feeling rested, Regulus?”

“Not in the slightest,” Regulus replied, the corners of his mouth twitching as Pansy gently smacked his chest, “Pansy won’t let me.”

“I have done nothing except make you rest, you liar,” Pansy stated, narrowing her eyes at him, which only seemed to amuse Regulus further.

“I’m telling you Cissa, she’s a complete deviant.”

Narcissa took another drink, and then a breath. “Yes, well, deviant or not, I have a feeling you haven’t found reason to complain. And don’t call me Cissa.”

“When I do she’s only more of a deviant,” Regulus lied cheerfully, downing the rest of the contents of his glass.

“You are full of shit,” Pansy replied tartly.

“Do you see, Ciss?” Regulus said, clearly ignoring Narcissa’s instruction regarding her name. “See how mean she is to me?”

“All I see is you being entirely deserving of it,” Narcissa replied coolly, though her eyes smiled as she took another sip. “I do, however, have some news, for you Pansy,” she directed her attention towards the other witch, “although I suppose it concerns you both, now.”

“Oh?” Pansy asked, intrigued as she took her first drink of the liquid, which was undoubtedly strong, but there was a delicate undertaste of peaches that made it fairly easy to consume.

“It’s about the Time-Turner, and why I believe you were sent here, and…” she paused, taking a breath as she regarded the couple as something that resembled sadness flashed over her face, “how I think we need to get you back to your time.”

Pansy and Regulus shared a brief look, during which Pansy was certain the grey specs in his iris’ looked directly into her, now frightened, soul. She’d been in this time less than a month, and she possessed no answers as to why she was here, only that she was, and that if given the choice, which Pansy was certain from the pointed look on Narcissa’s face she wouldn’t get, she would choose him. As much as it would destroy a part of her to leave everything she knew permanently, she knew it would tear her apart completely to leave him.

It wasn’t even entirely her that had made the choice, Pansy knew, for it was the wish of her heart alone, even without taking what her head would say into the equation. And her heart had screamed its answer to her on a daily basis: it had chosen Regulus.


	21. When She Asks, Answer

When she hadn’t been busy serving Voldemort in however he saw fit, which thankfully wasn’t too often considering Narcissa’s main task at present seemed to be concerning herself with creating the next Malfoy heir, she had taken herself to visit her father, Cygnus, to attempt to learn more about the Black family Time-Turner. 

 

“It’s not that I particularly  _ wished  _ to,” Narcissa informed Pansy and Regulus, “but whenever the thought crossed my mind, it wouldn’t leave and I became weirdly obsessed, despite still not being overly concerned about the whole thing,” she regarded Pansy, “it was a rather disconcerting feeling.”

 

“I’m fairly certain I know who - or what, you can blame,” Pansy stated, her mind drifting to what she knew was currently lying in a small drawer of the bedroom. 

 

Narcissa gave a knowing nod. “Oh, I do too, and it turns out that our good friend Mr Time-Turner and his magic are most likely responsible for a great deal of our strange circumstance.”

 

She swallowed as she listened to the other witch’s words, somehow knowing without a shadow of a doubt that they were the truth. Regulus’s hand clasped hers tightly and she felt both full of thoughts and questions but oddly empty all at once. 

 

“Pansy?” she heard Narcissa ask.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“It was I who gave you the Turner, wasn’t it?”

 

Pansy’s heartbeat suddenly became very apparent to her. She had already divulged too much of the future, and she was fairly certain she had mentioned that the Turner had been given to her by a friend’s mother, but how could she lie now?

 

Taking a deep breath, Pansy readied herself to admit to Narcissa Malfoy one truth of the older witch’s future: she would bear a child. 

 

“Yes.”

 

Narcissa nodded. “Good...that’s good, I believe.” When neither Pansy nor Regulus spoke, Narcissa continued, “I have ensured it is I that will receive the Turner in my father’s will. Which, if this indeed the correct path we must take, means that at some point between now and the point I send you back to, my father dies.”

 

Pansy, whose eyes filled with tears that were full of both concern and comfort, opened her mouth to reply with words that hadn’t yet formed in her mind. Draco’s grandfather did indeed pass away, sometime around 1992, if Pansy recalled correctly, remembering the moment that Draco had informed her, before Narcissa held a hand in the air to silence her. 

 

“It’s alright, I don’t need to know when, or how, or even if I’m correct, I don’t believe that is not for me to know, not yet.”

 

Regulus, who up until that point had been uncharacteristically quiet, spoke, “How did you work all of this,” he gestured vaguely with the hand that wasn’t holding Pansy’s, “out, how did you know uncle Cygnus even had the Time-Turner?”

 

“I asked him,” Narcissa replied simply, “and after he told me he was indeed in possession of such an artefact, he told me that when he  _ had  _ inherited it, it had come attached to a piece of strange parchment unlike any he had seen before.” Narcissa had an odd look in her eyes as she buried her hand in a pocket, bringing forth a piece of clearly very old, yet very well preserved parchment, which she held out to Pansy to read. 

 

_ When she asks, answer _

_ What she wishes, grant her _

_ For with the knowledge she possesses _

_ It is the House of Black she blesses _

 

“What in the world?” Regulus breathed beside Pansy as also he read the poem.

 

“Terribly dramatic, us Blacks, and apparently,” Narcissa said, nodding towards the parchment, “we always have been.”

 

“What she asks,” Pansy whispered, “that was you asking whether he knew of the Turner?”

 

“I believe so.”

 

“And you wished for it to be left to you in his will?” Regulus interjected as he and Pansy began to put the pieces of Narcissa’s tale, and the parchment’s riddle, together. She nodded in response, her face a mask of nonchalance. 

 

Pansy frowned. “The knowledge...is that about me being sent back?” 

 

“That’s all I can imagine it means,” Narcissa replied as she studied the pair. “I imagine it means the knowledge about your presence here also.”

 

“The last line makes no sense,” Regulus stated, wrinkling his nose.

 

“No?” Narcissa said with a quirk of her eyebrow, “it seems obvious, to me. Pansy,” she said, turning her head slightly to face the younger woman, “I believe, even more so now, that you being here is no accident, and I believe you are here because you have a purpose to fulfil, that involves the House of Black.”

 

“And that  _ purpose  _ is?” Regulus asked, though Pansy barely heard him, nor did she pay any attention to Narcissa’s reply. She felt a sudden outburst of an uneasy anger.

 

“And what if I fail? What if we can’t work out what it is?” She felt helpless and hysterical. What purpose could she possibly have that involved her being flung through time, to  _ him,  _ if not to save him? And she certainly didn’t do that because Regulus was dead in her time, and if what he’d suspected on her first night here was correct, everything Pansy did here had already happened in her time, and that meant that Regulus was still going to die. The only purpose she could possibly want wasn’t meant for her. The thought made her ill. She swallowed, before continuing her tirade. “And what if I actually succeed with whatever the hell it is? What happens once my  _ purpose, _ ” she said the word with an air of disregard, “is fulfilled?”

 

“It isn’t, strictly, for me to answer,” Narcissa replied and Pansy got the distinct impression that she was choosing her words carefully, “but what I am fairly sure of, is that it has already happened, in the time you came from anyway, it must have.” Pansy nodded once, the age-old surety they possessed in reference to time magic was that whatever Pansy did here in this time had already happened. Her head jolted up as Narcissa began to speak again. “There is another I believe we should all go and speak to first, but to answer your question...I think that once whatever you are here to do, is done, that you must be sent back to your time.”

 

“And if I don’t want to?” Pansy demanded, knowing it was fruitless to even question. She felt Regulus slump slightly beside her at her words and the pad of his thumb began to weave back and forth over the back of her hand. 

 

“You can’t exist in two times,” she heard him whisper the words she desperately wished she didn’t believe to be true and wiped a rogue tear from her cheek as Regulus shifted his arms to encase Pansy fully. 

 

“Who do you think we should speak to?” Pansy heard Regulus ask, not that she particularly cared considering the weight of what Narcissa had divulged rested so heavily on her Pansy was certain she would buckle were she not already sitting down.

 

“Phineas Nigellus Black,” Narcissa said, “my father believes he may have information on when the Black family came to have our own Time-Turner, and how its magic works. He was a bit of an unpleasant man, from what can be gathered, often heralded as the worst headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. He died sometime in the twenties, but he has a portrait we could speak to.”

 

“Oh Merlin, not him!” Regulus cried, “Cissa, he’s mental.”

 

“Where is the portrait?” Pansy asked, although surely there could only be one plausible answer if Regulus was familiar with the painting. 

 

“My house,” he replied blankly. “Shit, Pansy, you’re going to have to meet,” he paused, composing himself as he groaned profusely, “my mother.”

 

“Charming woman,” Narcissa replied somewhere to her left, and she was certain that Regulus responded but Pansy barely heard the exchange between the pair. All that was present in her ears was a strange sort of white noise, that was providing a sort of backing track to the booming beat of her heart.

 

She didn’t recall the moment she stood up, and she was only barely aware of the stifled sound of Regulus crying her name. She didn’t remember walking, or running perhaps, towards the stairs, or thundering up them, only that she was suddenly on the upstairs landing and rushing her way towards the bedroom. 

 

Not paying much attention to the footsteps that were clearly following her, Pansy slammed the door and magically locked it, not knowing how to face either of them in that moment, before throwing herself down on top of the bed, where her screams were masked only somewhat by the pillows.

 

Pillows she’d lain on with  _ him.  _ Pillows they’d laughed into and made love on in equal measure. Only a few short hours ago she’d been able to almost forget, how it was possible to do such a thing now she didn’t know, but the fact that the soul she had fallen in love so easily, so effortlessly, with was going to die, was a fact she’d pushed aside in favour of focussing on the life rather than the death, perhaps because a small, deluded part of her chose to believe she would be the one to right what was the most heinous wrong her heart could think of. 

 

Only now, as she cried and screamed and assaulted the pillows; it hit her,  _ truly  _ hit her. 

 

Regulus was going to die, and Pansy wouldn’t stop it.

 

Regulus was going to  _ die _ , and Pansy  _ couldn’t _ stop it. 

  
  



	22. Sorry

It was a full nine hours later when she finally made herself face him. Nine hours that were the loneliest and most confusing of Pansy’s life.

He’d knocked, sporadically, throughout the night and each time she had ignored him, cursing herself as, once again, she heard him say it was okay and when she was ready he’d be there. Pansy had been less than fond of herself many times throughout her life, but those other times didn’t come close to the self-hatred she experienced each time he left the other side of the door.

She held off, hating herself for loving him and selfishly for allowing herself to experience what at this point was inevitable, whilst despairing in the fact that as much as a part of her was determined to change the past, which at this point was the future, her heart still felt the same hopeless longing. It told her over and over that deep down, she was destined to fail. Narcissa’s words from the previous night echoed through her as though played on repeat, it has already happened, in the time you came from anyway, it must have…

When she finally unlocked the door, to a Regulus that looked so dishevelled that Pansy felt her heart break all over again, she refused to think, because thinking, the last nine hours had taught her, hurt. And so she only acted as she rushed to him, allowing him to scoop her into him and kissed him, harder than she ever had.

He didn’t do what Pansy knew he should, what she would most likely make him do were the situation reversed: demand answers. Answers that he both deserved and didn’t in equal measure, but he didn’t speak, not at first. Neither did she as they lost, and found, themselves in each other yet again as they made a love so desperate and yearning that Pansy found herself somehow able to extinguish all doubt, for a short time at least.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry” that I won’t save you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against the top of her head.

But it’s not, Pansy thought as the ability to set aside her fears began to dissipate, fear gripped her icily, and as much as she tried to pay attention only to Regulus’s arms and not the clutches of stone cold terror that held her just as tightly as he did, she knew she was failing.

As though sensing her shift in emotions, Regulus squeezed her torso, which was lying entirely on top of his, even tighter. “It’s okay,” he repeated, “whatever it is, it’s okay.”

She began to cry, a feat she found rather astonishing considering how much she had during the previous night. How she had any tears left, she did now know. “It’s not,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

“Why is it not?”

“I can’t tell you,” she replied with a sniff.

He didn’t question her, answering with a simple, “Okay,” that she both loved and hated. She wanted to tell him everything, because keeping secrets, something that had always come as easily as breathing to Pansy, from Regulus felt every kind of wrong, but on the flip side she wanted to never, ever divulge that she knew he was close to dying, because how could she?

So she didn’t, she wouldn’t, and she tried, only somewhat successfully, to compose herself. The knowledge that Regulus deserved his final months, she tried not to think weeks? For she did not know the exact date at all, to be filled with love.

Breaking down once more, she lied to herself - knowing full well it would happen again, would be for when she was alone.

She used her elbows to prop herself up to see him fully through the still remaining tears, she was still lying atop him, their stomachs touching and she folded her arms against his chest and regarded him from above.

“I’m alright,” she said with a watery half smile.

“No, you’re not,” he replied, twirling two fingers around part of her hair that was falling down the side of his face, “but I’m going to do everything I can to try make it better.”

“You make it better anyway.”

He was stroking the side of her thigh with the fingertips of his other hand. “I love you,” he stated simply, and the three words were so unexpected and sudden that Pansy actually gasped.

“I love you too,” she whispered back before kissing him. “I’ve no idea how you can love me,” Pansy said between kisses.

“No, I don’t either,” he replied playfully, still twirling her hair, “you’re a bit mental.”

In other circumstances, she would have chastised him with a comeback, instead, she laughed softly. “I can’t even blame you for saying that, after last night.”

He moved his fingers from her hair and moved them upwards, trailing them lightly down the side of her face. “Only joking.”

“Don’t lie,” she smirked.

“Alright, you are a bit mental, but I love that.”

She regarded him with a wider smile now. “Good. I guess I love that you’re a pain in the arse.”

“Good,” he repeated her own response back at her.

She laid her head back down on his chest again, sighing as both of his hands entwined themselves in her hair. She wasn’t okay, of course she wasn’t, and she had a sneaking suspicion she maybe never would be, but for now, she hoped she could hide it enough to give him the Pansy that would fill as much of his life as she could, with happiness.

“When do you want to go see this portrait? Tomorrow?” she asked, acknowledging the previous night’s conversation for the first time since she had let him into the bedroom.

His answer surprised her. “Nah, not yet.”

“No?”

“I don’t think it’ll affect anything just yet,” he replied, “and I think, before we do that, I want to take you out.”

She raised her eyebrows and sat up again, watching him. “Take me out?”

It amused her to see the grin that lit up his face. “Yeah, I have a sudden wanting to show my girlfriend off. You in?”

Breathing a sigh through her nose, Pansy felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. “I’m so in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my own Regulus (aka mrwaterfalcon) told me he loved me after only three weeks...


	23. To Soho!

Typically, on the night they had planned to go out, Pansy had just begun to get ready when a breathless and incredibly apologetic Regulus appeared, stating that he'd been summoned by Voldemort and didn't know how long he would be.

"It's alright," Pansy breathed, her lips on his, "you can't help it, go - before you get punished for being late again."

He nodded once, before disappearing from the door to make his way to the dining room, from where he was able to apparate, and Pansy sighed as she plonked herself on top of her bed, a feeling of deflation washing over her.

She had been back staying at the Manor for the better part of the last week, which held pros and cons of its own. It was strange to leave the lake house, but as much as she began to love the wooden cabin with its breathtaking views and tranquil isolation, she had to admit it was nice to be back to something as close to normality as Pansy had.

Regulus had returned to his parents home on the day they had returned, after two howlers had appeared from the infamous Walburga Black, demanding to know where her youngest - and, as far as she was concerned, only, son was. He hadn't been seen at the Manor for five days, explaining in letters how sorry he was and how much he planned to spoil her when he saw her again - which was supposed to be that night.

She sighed again.

Out of the past four nights, she had spent two with Narcissa - one of which had involved a rather awkward dinner with Lucius, whom Narcissa informed Pansy she had forced to make an unbreakable vow to swear his silence over Pansy's presence there, and she had spent the other two alone. She hadn't left the Manor or its grounds for the entirety of the time, and was beginning to wonder if she should venture out of the grounds herself just for something to do, when a short rap on the door, followed by the appearance of Narcissa, caused a break from her deliberations.

"Are you okay?" Narcissa asked in greeting.

"I suppose, did Lucius get called away, too?"

Narcissa nodded. "It was sudden, I know he didn't expect to be summoned tonight."

"I wonder why," Pansy replied, not entirely sure why considering she was fairly certain she never truly wanted to know what happened or was discussed at Death Eater meetings.

"No idea, but since they have been called away, and we're left here, Lucius and I were planning to go tonight also, and since that's now both of our plans put on hold, I thought maybe we could go out instead?"

Pansy glanced upwards, some of the disappointment leaving her. She still wished she could have spent the evening with Regulus of course, but a night out with Narcissa was certainly more appealing than another night of combing the Malfoy's library looking for anything to read that wouldn't bore her to tears after half a page, all the while struggling internally with the fact that if she spent much more time reading she would definitely  _turn into fucking Granger,_ and that certainly wouldn't do.

"It's as though you read my mind," Pansy answered with a small half-smile.

"Fabulous, can you be ready in an hour?"

"I think so."

"I'll get one of the elves to set a portkey, how does Soho sound?"

"I love London," Pansy answered with a smile. The last time she and Narcissa had gone out, they had only travelled West, into the city of Bath, and, although it wasn't the night she'd been anticipating with Regulus, Pansy definitely felt excitement at the prospect of drinking in London, something she had done only a few times in the nineties.

Narcissa smiled and nodded before she disappeared, most likely to her own bedroom to get ready, and Pansy stood from her bed to do the same.

An hour later they were both ready and both witches were dressed pleated skirts, knee-high boots and patterned blouses that were so quintessentially seventies that Pansy had found herself with a bizarre desire to burst out laughing every time they passed a reflective surface.

The dining room was large and featured a massive, ornate, dark wood table, with enough chairs around it to seat several people at once, and was the only place in the Manor where portkeys and apparition worked.

"I always make sure the portkey is set for the same place, in this alley close to a few great bars, but I'm always too tiddled by the time I make it home to remember it in enough detail to apparate there," Narcissa relayed, much to Pansy's amusement, both at the words as a whole, and Narcissa's use of the word  _tiddled._

"Sounds good," Pansy replied as she examined the portkey, an object which, usually, is unassuming and ordinary, except, of course, when you're of pompous, pureblood upbringing. The Parkinsons were exactly the same, using items so decadent that most wizards wouldn't dream of using them for something as mundane as making a portkey from.

Narcissa's choice of portkey was exactly that: decadent, and Pansy felt the corners of her mouth twitch as she looked at the jewelled, expensive looking brooch that probably cost more than the average two-bedroom house.

"Shall we?" Narcissa interrupted Pansy's train of thought.

Pansy cocked her head as she grinned at Narcissa. "To Soho!" she exclaimed as both witches reached for the brooch.

* * *

They materialised partway down an uninteresting, grey alley. Pansy wobbled slightly on her high heels but regained her composure just as Narcissa tapped the brooch-portkey once, and attached it delicately to the front of her blouse.

"Shall we?" Narcissa asked, inclining her head towards the end of the alley closest to Pansy.

Nodding, Pansy turned and together the witches made their way towards the nearby paved street, the air of which, Pansy had realised, was filled with an indecipherable buzz of noises, as different songs emanated from a small number of different nearby bars.

"Is this...magical?" Pansy enquired as her eyes accommodated themselves to a number of passersby, most, she had realised, seemed to be wearing a cloak, in some form or another.

"It is," Narcissa replied, "although it's usually much busier."

Pansy regarded the street, and right enough, for as many people as she could see, it was the gaps between them that drew her eyes more. They were numerous and spelt one word: war.

"People will be afraid to leave their houses."

"They are," Narcissa replied with a sigh. "Come on, that place over there," she nodded across the road, "does good cocktails."

Pansy smiled and followed Narcissa's lead towards a large building called  _The Heart of Glass,_ which was decorated almost entirely red, in what should have been a tacky and gaudy fashion, but somehow managed to maintain an air of sophistication. The lighting was, predictably, red, and the rouge theme was offset with gold-trimmed furniture. Pansy smiled softly, the place somehow reeked of a confusing mix of Gryffindor, and Narcissa Malfoy.

After obtaining their drinks from the bar, at which Narcissa, seemingly well known enough, had simply had to throw one manicured hand in the air to jump the queue, not that it was particularly large, and was served immediately, and the two women settled themselves in a nearby booth.

"What?" Pansy asked bluntly, after several long seconds of Narcissa watching her and annoyingly not emitting a single word.

"I'm just...pondering," Narcissa began, elongating her words and taking a number of what Pansy imagined were unnecessary sips of her drink, "what it is about my dopey cousin that has you so enamoured, and after such a short space of time."

"You and me both," Pansy muttered darkly, at which Narcissa chuckled. "It is the Time Turner's influence, definitely, but," she paused, contemplating her words as images of her and Regulus at the lake house flashed before her mind's eye, "I still know it's real. I don't know how, but I do. I love him," she added, as though it were the simplest thing in the world, which it both was and wasn't.

"I can see you do," Narcissa replied, "you  _both_ do. Have you been in love before?"

Pansy had to compose herself as the sip of her drink she'd just taken threatened to choke her. "I thought I was," she said carefully, as a face, oddly similar to the one sitting in front of her swam into her mind, "once. We were always better off as friends, though."

"But it feels different, with Regulus?"

Pansy nodded, as the vision of Draco shifted to one of his second cousin, and Pansy's nose wrinkled at the thought of the family connection she hadn't properly considered before. "One hundred percent."

Narcissa nodded thoughtfully but did not reply, and for a short while neither uttered a single word, Pansy's eyes drifted to Narcissa's left hand, and in particular the sizeable diamond and emerald ring sitting upon her ring finger.

"Do you love Lucius?" she blurted, a tad more directly than she had intended, a part of her feeling like the small child who had often wished to ask the same question. Hoping she hadn't come across as rude as she was sure she had, Pansy watched Narcissa for a reaction.

Narcissa wasn't phased, however. "I believe I do, yes," she replied. "Our marriage was one of convenience, for both families, I won't deny that. But I also won't deny that I've grown very fond of him.

"Fond?" Pansy replied with a snort.

"We can't all find our soulmates through troublesome Time Turners that send us back in time twenty years you know, Pansy. Some of us have to make do."

"Does  _making do_ with Lucius make you happy?"

She contemplated, not answering straight away. "Do you know, it didn't. But now, he's a buffoon definitely, but I wouldn't be without him. He does make me happy."

"Good," Pansy replied, before a peculiar, yet irritatingly familiar sensation against her right thigh wrenched all thoughts of whether Lucius Malfoy made a satisfactory husband or not from her mind. "Oh, bloody hell! I didn't even  _bring_ you!" she exclaimed in a hiss.

"Everything okay?" Narcissa asked, clearly stunned by Pansy's outburst.

Pansy pulled the curious artefact from the pocket she had most definitely not put it into, and held it up, noticing, just as she had her very first day in this time, something about the Turner begin to change.

"Oh my God," Pansy muttered, only loud enough for Narcissa to just hear. "It's turning into a compass again."

"Like it did in Diagon Alley?"

Pansy nodded, her eyes wide as the Time Turner began to vibrate more erratically than it ever had before. An arrow appeared, pointing very definitely towards the door.

"Narcissa, I think we need to-"

"Go, now!" Narcissa agreed, standing.

Both women made their way towards the door and exited the bar with haste, at which point the Time Turner's arrow altered itself to the left, and eventually, as they walked, towards an alley, almost directly opposite the one they'd portkey'd into.

Her foot had only just made it between the two walls when a gruff shout echoed into the night, accompanied by several cracks of apparition, and a blinding collision of sparks. Turning on the ball of her foot, Pansy gasped in shock. Where the nearly empty street had been moments before, was now filled by a number of wizards and witches; some shouting words that Pansy couldn't hope to hear, others donning sinister looking masks.

Pansy knew those masks.

"Death Eaters," she breathed.

"Yes," Narcissa whispered, her hand, Pansy realised, was wrapped tightly around Pansy's wrist. "The other ones are the Order."


	24. An Awful Lot Like Fear

Instinctively, Pansy’s hand shot upwards, her palm flattening over her open mouth as, where not twenty minutes ago there was a sparsely occupied street, now there was absolute and seemingly limitless chaos. Spells zoomed through the evening air like fireworks as sparks cascaded through the street around and towards the large number of witches and wizards currently fighting. Pansy and Narcissa, from the relative safety of their alleyway, watched, eyes wide.

Feeling a soft tugging on her sleeve, Pansy turned her face to meet Narcissa’s, who gestured silently, towards the building opposite. The pair crept across the small width of the alley and after Narcissa magically opened what looked to be some kind of grey maintenance door, the two witches hastily stepped inside.

The inside of the building held nothing of interest, but a few flights of stairs led them to a landing which housed a conveniently placed window. Conveniently placed, Pansy thought, swallowing, to watch… what would she watch? At best, a bloody fight, and at worst...the worst...

Her _worst nightmare_.

It became apparent why the Time-Turner had pointed them to this building, as it seemed to be the only one in the vicinity that wasn’t, in some form or another, on fire. Where, not ten minutes before the air had been clear and crisp, an abundance of smoke and sparks now filled almost every space Pansy could make out. It burned her eyes, but she daren’t look away as something else entirely burned in her chest.

Something else that felt an awful lot like fear.

Figures were still clear enough to see, but hard, too hard, to make out. Incoherent shouts and muffled bangs filled her ears as figures, their allegiances barely recognisable as the air became even denser, danced from cover before darting back to what they obviously hoped was close to safety.

“Lucius is over there, in front of that shop.” Narcissa’s voice was ragged and her words stilted as she nodded pointedly almost directly across the chaotic street. Right enough, despite never believing she’d be able to make anyone of familiarity out, there was a figure that had a distinct air of Lucius Malfoy to his movements.

“And-”

Pansy didn’t have to say more before Narcissa held a shaky arm outwards, slightly to the right, where Pansy was able to identify, thanks to the direction, the slightly stocky figure that could only be, “Regulus,” she breathed. “Oh my God!”

She tried to focus on anything that could possibly indicate that he’d make it from this, finding herself praying to whatever deity was willing to listen that she’d take him in any state that left his heart still beating in time with hers. Where a few bodies could be seen lying, motionless, so far, Regulus didn’t, she thought with a hastily thrown together prayer, look as though he were going to join them.

Not yet, anyway… The thought was swirled up with nauseating terror.

His offensive spellwork was impressive, as was his defensive ability to block and shield, which, oddly, he seemed more inclined to use. However, there was a reluctance there, as impressive and timely as they were, his offensive curses weren’t, Pansy knew, cast with the intent to kill, in fact, the more she stared they more she saw it: a half-heartedness to his attacks.

At some point, though she had no recollection of having done so, Pansy must have re-grabbed onto Narcissa’s forearm. The older witch held Pansy’s hand in her own as they watched the fight below.

“Pansy, it’s okay. They’ll be fine.”

Of course, Lucius would be fine, Pansy knew, as would the majority of the others. Her eyes hadn’t left him since Narcissa had pointed his position out to her. But, for some reason, this time they did. Darting her gaze momentarily to another figure, just as agile and adept at spellwork, she watched the one that was facing off against Regulus.

Instinctively, she knew.

Her voice, despite the loudness of the commotion, was a whisper. “The one fighting Regulus,” Pansy asked, her words running together in one barely comprehensible gasp, “it’s his brother, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Pansy had seen very little of Sirius Black in her life, but in that moment, where she watched him attack her boyfriend and his own estranged little brother, she learned more about him than an abundance of Daily Prophet articles in her third year, and countless rumours had granted her: when it came to taking down his brother, Sirius Black was just hesitant as Regulus was.

 

* * *

 

__

_“Worst nightmare?”_

__

_“Never making up with Sirius.”_

 

* * *

 

She had little to focus on through the haze. And somehow, that made it worse. Perhaps if there was more to see than inane fighting of which there seemed to very little in the way of a point or even a conclusion, she would have had more to think about than what scares her the most. In fact, the longer the two women stood, helplessly watching the turmoil unfold. The figures moved too quickly and sporadically for either Pansy or Narcissa to dare risk throwing hexes of their own, and, if truth be told, Pansy knew, even with the clouded fear in her mind, that her emotions would be too heightened for her to confidently cast any spell and aim it correctly.

What she did have to focus on, unfortunately, was the ever-present and all-consuming fear. And for Pansy, her fear, and especially when it was all-consuming, presented itself not just mentally, but physically.

And this fear screamed one thing alone: _Regulus is going to die._

If asked later, Pansy would have been fairly sure that her breathing could not have been described as anything close to normal from the very moment the realisation dawned on her that the Time-Turner was changing into a compass again, however, it was nothing close to the ragged struggles her breathing began to become. As though the very air around them had not only become filled with smoke and curses, but had disappeared entirely, Pansy gaped like a fish on dry land as she tried, fruitless, to gulp oxygen that eluded her.

_Regulus is going to die._

__

Something seemed to jab itself, painfully, into the centre of her chest, as though the lack of breath was closing her airway. With as much strength as she could muster, she held onto the only thing she could: Narcissa.

From somewhere, Pansy assumed beside her despite the deceiving way it sounded so far away, she heard Narcissa say something that could very well have been her name, whilst simultaneously could just as easily have been spoken in a tongue Pansy did not know.

_Regulus is going to die._

All at once, Pansy felt a confusing snap overtake her entire physical self, her thought still roared the same over and over, but a whole new panic overcame her as she fell, ungracefully, to the ground, her head hitting the cold, rock-hard ground with a harder whack than she had time to anticipate. She then realised she was unable to move, at all.

“Pansy,” Narcissa began. Pansy’s eyes widened as a familiar face entered her peripheral vision. “I’m sorry, but when you’re magically paralysed, it forces your breathing to slow and your heart rate to return to normal.”

Magically what? The confusion and fear and panic subsided a minuscule amount as, somewhere around the point the back of her head had made contact with the floor, a small wave of annoyance gripped her.

The annoyance wasn’t quite enough, however... _Regulus is going to die._

“You were having a panic attack,” Narcissa offered, speaking slowly, and Pansy watched as Narcissa’s wand rose, and she felt an odd tingling sensation overtake her entire body.

 

It _might_ not be today, she knew, but that didn't make it less true: _Regulus is going-_

Shakily, she sat up.

_Regulus is-_

Narcissa was crouched before her, eyes widened in the dark of the hallway. “Pansy?”

_Regulus-_

 

"Pansy, wha-" 

 

“Regulus is going to die!”


	25. How Much to Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little baby chapter (even for me!) I know, but another is coming probably on Friday ;)

Had she been asked to describe Narcissa’s expression at the exact moment Pansy blurted out the very thing she knew she ought to never utter aloud in this time would have been an impossibility. The older witch’s face somehow held both absolute calm and complete terror, all at once. 

Regulus is going to die!    
  
The statement hung in the air like a great big neon sign flashing above their heads. Pansy didn’t say any more, and for a long moment, during which, had she paid attention, Pansy would have sworn the fight in the street below had become quieter, for  everything  had quietened for them. Everything except the memory of Pansy crying out the very truth she desperately wished was a lie. 

“N-now? Is that why you were-”

“No!” Pansy interjected, her voice sounding breathless and odd even to herself, as though the wind had been knocked from her metaphorical sails. “Well,” she began, “I don’t  know when,” she explained, standing, willing herself to her feet in spite of the shakiness she felt, needing to see that Regulus was still standing, still…

The place where he had been duelling was empty, and as her eyes darted to every and any part of the street she could, Narcissa’s soft, yet clearly shaken, voice, drew her attention. “He’s there,” she heard Narcissa say, and as the older woman pointed, Pansy was able to follow the line of sight more to her left, where a small huddle of Death Eaters could be seen, and right enough, near the back was a figure half a head shorter than whoever he was next to. 

The breath Pansy let out was woven with two things: a coughing fit, and relief. 

“But...if you don’t know  when,”  Narcissa queried, “couldn’t it be years from now?”

Pansy gently shook her head. “Dr-I...there’s  someone  who. Ah!” she cried out in frustration before steeling herself, “I can’t tell you who...but he’s never mentioned Regulus and I know that won’t make sense, but if he had years...I’m 99% sure I’d have known him. And I didn’t, at all,” she ended, her heart heavy. 

It seemed both sides were retreating somewhat, both the Death Eaters and the Order had formed tighter knit groups on far sides of the street. 

From somewhere behind her, Narcissa’s voice startled her. “Pansy?”

Pansy didn’t turn, needing her eyes to remain on Regulus’ too far away form. “Yeah?”

“I know I shouldn’t ask, and you shouldn’t tell me, but…” her voice lowered further, “Lucius?” she asked in a shaky breath.

“Survives,” Pansy replied, curtly. Knowing in that moment that Narcissa needed the reassurance that Pansy could never have, and not caring at all whether it was the right thing to do. “Lucius survives, you both do.”

Narcissa took a second to answer, and when she did her tone was laced with understanding. “That was why you freaked out when we realised you didn’t come here to change anything.”

Pansy swallowed yet remained silent, not seeing any need to clarify that Narcissa was correct. 

“I’m so sorry.”

Breathing through her nose, Pansy forced her gaze from him and turned. “I am too,” she spoke with a sob she wished weren’t there. At once, Narcissa’s arms wound around Pansy’s shoulders as a tiny fraction of the huge weight she was carrying was, for that small moment, transferred. It was in that moment that Pansy truly understood how much she had to lose from this time. 

 

And it wasn’t solely Regulus. 


	26. Daren't Let it End

 

She daren’t let it end. 

 

Once the fight had, for the most part, subsided - and from what both Pansy and Narcissa could see, without any clear victory in sight, the two women used the portkey to travel back to Malfoy Manor. They were followed, after an hour and a half of nervous waiting, pacing and worrying, by Lucius and Regulus. 

 

The former was gripped in a tight embrace by Narcissa and the latter in an even tighter one, by Pansy. And she daren’t let it end. 

 

“Hey, hey,” he muttered against the side of her head. “What’s all this about?”

 

“We saw you.”

 

“You... _ saw  _ me?”

 

Pansy’s voice was muffled against the front of his robes. “Mmhmm, we saw your fight.”

 

Her words sparked a sudden shift in Regulus’s demeanour as he altogether stiffened, his palms travelling upwards to grip her shoulders. “You  _ what?”  _ he demanded. 

 

Breathing haughtily through her nose even in spite of her relief, Pansy shifted her torso backwards ever so slightly. “What do you mean, ‘I  _ what?’  _ I  _ happened  _ to have no choice in the matter, considering you and your heathen friends decided to have a duel right opposite the bar we were  _ trying  _ to have a quiet drink at.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Oh,” Pansy repeated, narrowing her eyes. 

 

“It was rather an inconvenience,” Pansy heard Narcissa state from somewhere to her right. Lucius, she was vaguely aware, offered something of a reply but Pansy failed to hear it. Possibly due to her complete and utter mental exhaustion that seemed to have overtaken her entire brain after the evening she had just endured, or perhaps it was the way Regulus’s fingers were curling strands of her hair gently around them.

 

Becoming dimly aware that Narcissa and Lucius were departing the sitting room, leaving Regulus and Pansy alone, Pansy allowed herself to be pulled into him once more, and she breathed in as much of him as she could through ragged breaths. 

 

“Do you want to go to bed?” he whispered, planting a solitary kiss just above her ear. 

 

“You’re staying.” 

 

He seemed to grasp that it hadn’t been a question. “Yeah, baby. I’m staying.”

 

She wasn’t ready to go to bed, even though Regulus would be joining her. Somehow, she needed to stay exactly where she was, breathing against the part of his chest that concealed the beating of his heart. “I want to stay here, just for a little while. I just want to _be_ here, with you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

And stay there, they did. Slowly, as though scared to startle her, Pansy felt Regulus’s body contort oddly and then became aware of an arm reaching behind her knees. He lifted her with relative ease and brought them both to, and down on top of, a nearby armchair; she nestled atop his lap, encased by his arms, which were wrapped as much around her as he was able, and somehow she knew:

 

He daren’t let it end. 

 

At some point, between soft kisses placed both on her forehead and the side of his neck, and nondescript patterns drawn with fingertips on the side of her arm, and the centre of his chest, they both fell asleep. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, what with the ninety miles per hour thoughts of equal parts complete misery and exhaustive yet all-consuming love, but yet exhaustion had, evidently, overtaken them both. 

 

When Pansy awoke, she did so with a jolt and the painful realisation that her neck had been resting in a position definitely not fit for sleeping. It was very dark, she observed, guessing they hadn’t been asleep for particularly long. Her sudden movement had, in turn, awoken Regulus, and Pansy smiled softly as he hummed softly awake, his arms, their hold having slackened in his unconsciousness, tightened around her once more. 

 

“Hey,” he whispered, croakily. 

 

She didn’t care to grant him a response, not in words anyway. She did reply, however, by twisting her body slightly and pressing her lips to his. 

 

The kiss was neither gentle nor particularly romantic. Instead, it was explosive and passionate and...everything. Everything she needed to convey. And she daren’t let it end. 

 

Regulus responded immediately as he moved his lips in time with hers. She felt his hands creep upwards to nestle in her hair, which he grabbed fistfuls of, holding her in place over him, not that he needed to, for Pansy, having successfully maneuvered herself with her front flush against his and her knees separated by his thighs, had no intention of going anywhere that wasn’t exactly where she was. Her own hands laced, rhythmically, through his dark, loose curls. 

 

It happened in a tantalising, frenzied chaos of clothing and caresses. The former being removed and the latter being utilised in every perceivable way possible. And suddenly, despite it feeling mere seconds since she’d awoken, she, and he, was entirely naked, although no part of her could ever feel as exposed to him as her heart did. 

 

They had returned to the same position, with her straddling him, only this time he didn’t hold her in place, his hands instead softly brushed the soft pink peaks of her breasts as she rose up and down, her breathing quickening more with each time she sheathed him completely within her. 

 

Leaning forward whilst still maintaining the same pace, her mouth eagerly met his once more, and this time his hands left her breasts and made their way to her hips, holding onto her more tightly with every move she made as he continued to kiss her just as enthusiastically as she, him. And, despite knowing that it was going to, she knew from the way his breaths were hitching against her, that it was going to, but in those last moments before she knew he reached his climax and he  _ had to _ , they daren’t let it end. 

 

* * *

 

Later the same evening she lay, as the pair  _ had,  _ eventually, decided to head to Pansy’s bedroom, once more enclosed in his embrace. Only when the soft snores had just begun to replace his deep, hovering between awake and asleep breaths, did she allow herself, against the safety of her pillow, to weep. Not for long,  _ never for long,  _ it was the newest promise she’d made herself. She wouldn’t allow a premature, and arguably at this stage, pointless, mourning to affect her more than a current, and meaningful, happiness; however fleeting the moments of it were. 

 

She knew that tomorrow they, and Narcissa, were heading to Regulus’s family home, to talk about the one thing Pansy was damned sure she never wished to happen, let alone speak about, to a portrait, of all things. She snorted a soft hint of a laugh that came from nowhere, wondering how on Earth her destiny was to be determined by two, well not exactly inanimate - and certainly sentient, objects. 

 

Shifting slightly in his sleep, Pansy felt Regulus’s arms move a touch, although they didn’t leave their position around her, and for that, for that what should be minuscule, insignificant fact, she was grateful. Pansy clung to the way they felt against her. And even though she knew it must, for that night at least, she daren’t let it end. 


	27. The Bullfrog & the Bulldog

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place lay concealed within a Muggle suburb and was located in Islington, in London. It looked, in Pansy’s humble opinion, an odd contradiction of the epitome of pureblood class, and an utter shithole. 

Walburga Black, whom Narcissa, and Regulus - although with a touch of reluctance, had admitted possessed very little in the way of common sense, had been spun a web of lies concerning who Pansy was. For the most part the woman, who looked to Pansy to resemble a large, hard-featured bullfrog, had been informed that Pansy was a very influential, but secret - and Walburga, Narcissa had explained, was a big fan of being let in on what she believed were impressive and important secrets, ally and relative of the Malfoy’s, from France - who had come to Britain carrying a rare type of albino peacock at the request of Lucius. At this point in the story, Pansy’s eyes had rolled at the sheer ridiculousness of Narcissa’s tale and had been met with the sight of an ancient house-elf’s head staring at her, unblinking, from a mount above. 

“-anyway,” Narcissa was saying, Pansy only able to half-listen as her attentions continued to be entirely focussed on the, what she now realised was a number of, house-elf heads, “we’re actually here for a matter of utmost importance, you  _ do  _ understand, don’t you Walburga?”

“Of course,” Walburga replied, puffing her chest out - only adding to the bullfrog comparison, “but what is it you’ll be needing, exactly, Narcissa? This is  _ my  _ house, after all, and-”

“Yes, yes,” Narcissa waved, airily, “nothing too taxing for you, or,” Narcissa’s eyes glazed, momentarily, over the elf heads, “your  _ lovely  _ house. We simply need a small chat with Phineas.”

From the look of sheer confusion that crossed Walburga’s round face, Pansy would have been willing to bet a lot of gold that Narcissa’s answer was entirely not what the woman was expecting. 

“Phineas...th-the portrait...of Phineas?”

“Yes.”

Pansy felt the slight brush of Regulus’ fingertips against the base of her spine and exhaled a long, slow breath. The feeling of surreality that had surrounded her since she arrived in this time was heightened an astronomical amount since they had entered the Black family home, with its mounted elf heads and odd, hanging tapestries. 

“And...that is... _ all... _ you need?”

Regulus cleared his throat, “Yes, mother. That is all.”

“Very well,” Walburga clapped a pair of beefy, pink hands together, “Kreacher!”

As the word left Walburga’s lips, a somewhat sunken looking house-elf appeared from nowhere. Its nose was large and hooked and its ears large and batlike, giving it, Pansy thought dryly, a rather ugly appearance. 

“Yes, m'lady. How may Kreacher serve you?” It croaked, lowering itself into a deep bow. “It is most appealing to see Master Regulus home once again,” the elf added. 

“Escort Regulus, Narcissa and,” Walburga paused as her eyes rove up and down Pansy for what felt like the twentieth time since they had arrived, “their  _ friend _ to the second guest room, upstairs, the one with the portrait of Phineas Black resides.”

“No need mother,” Regulus countered, and Pansy felt his hand graze over her back once more, “I’m perfectly capable of finding the way myself.”

Without waiting for a response, Regulus ushered the two witches towards the nearby staircase and together the three began to climb the steps, which were decorated, Pansy realised, attempting to keep her eyes from widening, with more house elf heads.  _ How lovely.  _

“Keep an ear out for Kreacher,” Regulus muttered, “she’ll have sent him up with us to report back to her exactly what we want with Phineas.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Pansy heard Narcissa shoot back, “it’s hardly a normal request.”

Pansy snorted. “I’m not sure I know what  _ normal  _ is anymore.”

Neither answered, simply offering a collective snigger in response. 

* * *

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black hung in an unassuming bedroom. It took five minutes of Narcissa’s irate calling for her deceased relative for him to appear, eyebrows raised as he ambled into view, clearly in no rush to converse with the three. 

He was a large, sullen-looking gentleman with a large grey beard and he reminded Pansy of a large, unpleasant boxer dog that had lived not far from her as a child. Despite the unpleasant connotation, however, at first glance, he did not appear an unintelligent man. 

“Well,” Narcissa began curtly, “it’s about time.”

Phineas regraded her coolly. “You requested my presence?”

Narcissa’s expression, Pansy noted with amusement, was one of identical disdain. “Indeed.”

Shuffling slightly, Pansy felt Regulus close the small gap between them as he moved to almost directly behind her, his left hand reaching subtly to rest on the side of Pansy’s waist.

“You are a Black,” Pansy realised Phineas had been talking as he scrutinised each of them in turn. 

“We’re all purebloods,” Regulus stated. “Narcissa is a Black, like myself - as you know, and Pansy is a Parkinson.”

It took a long moment of further scrutiny before Phineas gave his descendant a stark nod. “Alright,” he replied, seemingly satisfied with their blood status. “What  _ exactly  _ is it, that you wish of me?”

“Information,”Regulus replied.

“Regarding?”

“This,” Pansy spoke for the first time as she pulled the Time-Turner from the inner pocket of her coat. The familiar instrument hung, swaying slightly on its chain, looking irritatingly unassuming and innocent. 

“My Gods...that’s not-”

“Yes, it is.” 

“Where the devil did you get that, girl? You aren’t a Black, why would a Parkinson,” he spoke the word with the hint of a sneer, “be in possession of the Black family Time-Turner?”

“It is I,” Narcissa said, “who has the Turner, or  _ will  _ have. And it is I who entrusts it to Pansy.”

“And for why, exactly?”

Regulus breathed a snort through his nose. “We have no idea.”

“I see,” Phineas looked suspiciously between the three, his eyes eventually resting on Pansy. “How far did you travel.”

“Around twenty years.”

“And you have not yet worked out the Turner’s plan, I assume?”

Pansy swallowed, knowing she cared not for whatever plan the Turner had for her, unless said plan involved her saving Regulus, which she was certain it most certainly did not. “No,” she clarified sadly. 

“You know of the Time-Turner?” Regulus asked. 

“Very well,” Phineas replied, inclining his head, the expression on his aged face clearly one of disinterest. “Each of the ancient houses has one, or  _ had,  _ considering most seem to have been lost, or hidden and forgotten of. They are laced with the most ancient of magic, the most powerful of each family’s ancestors having created them. They are far more powerful than ordinary Time-Turners, which I’m sure you’ll have realised already.” 

The three nodded. 

Phineas continued, now examining the fingernails on his left hand. “As far as I am aware a family Turner has multiple powers - primarily enhancers of multiple types, but serves one main purpose, and that is to preserve its House, at whatever cost. This type of magic exists outside of the regular rules of time travel, enabling the user - which is almost always at the Turner’s own discretion. It does not, however, have the power to change the past or the future - only ensure that the correct path - of which already exists, or will exist, happens correctly.”

“Whatever I’m meant to do here, has already happened,” Pansy clarified, feeling the familiar sinking feeling in her chest confirm, yet again, what she already knew. Whyever she was here and how she was supposed to help preserve the house of Black - it was not to save him. 

“Correct.”

Pansy felt Regulus’s grip on her waist tighten, his thumb circling on her side.

Pansy became dimly aware of Narcissa’s voice. “What do you mean  _ enhancers _ ?”  

“It is believed that family Time-Turners can enhance the user’s own magic - particularly if said user is a Black or someone with significant ties or bands with those who are Blacks, and also emotions, feelings, the like of those around it,” he stated the last sentence with something of a disapproving sniff, as though the very thought of emotions and feelings was one he would rather not have.

“Well, we knew that already,” Regulus muttered somewhere close to Pansy’s right ear. 

Pansy leant against Regulus further, before questioning the painting further. “But the feelings themselves are real?” 

 

Phineas Black nodded once more. “The feelings you possess for my great-great-grandson here are real, yes.”


	28. My Girlfriend, the Exhibitionist

 This amazing photomanip was made by the INCREDIBLY talented and amazing Sandra-Sempra (who understands my love of 80's power ballads like no other), and fits this chapter rather well...*waggles eyebrows* 

The words are lyrics to Making Love Out Of Nothing At All, by Air Supply and is Velvet & Lace's new theme tune and I demand you all go listen and love at your earliest convenience.   
  
  


 

* * *

 

 

_ There was no point dwelling on it.  _

 

That was what Regulus constantly informed her, anyway. And she supposed he was right. 

 

_ But would he think the same if he knew his months...weeks...days -  _ she didn’t know which was accurate _ , were numbered? _

 

After their meeting with the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black and his unpleasant demeanour, Pansy had been, rather rudely she thought, instructed by the dead man to leave the room, for he had further information that was far too important for Pansy’s untrustworthy non-Black self to be party to. 

 

In the hallway, she had run into Kreacher the house-elf. 

 

“Hello,” she offered awkwardly. 

 

The elf, much to her surprise, dropped to a half-bow. “You are the one, Miss, that has had Master Regulus in a much more pleasant humour than usual, Kreacher offers greetings to you, Miss.”

 

“Err,” Pansy stammered, not entirely sure how to answer, “thanks.”

 

Kreacher bowed once more, and then promptly opted to stare at Pansy for the duration of their time standing together in the hallway. Luckily, it was realistically only a few minutes until Regulus and Narcissa appeared through the nearby door, and the three, after Regulus informed Kreacher that any information he had happened to obtain at his mother’s bequest, was indeed best kept private. And with a wink at Pansy, Regulus took her hand, dropping it only momentarily to say a hasty  _ goodbye  _ to Walburga, and led them from the townhouse. The exiting of which, Pansy realised as she stepped through the magically concealed front door, she was grateful for. 

 

Grimmauld Place, she internally deliberated, was not somewhere she wished to set foot in again if she could help it. 

 

They began to walk down the street, probably to the park nearby that they had apparated to, a small cluster of trees providing a convenient hidden spot for wizards to appear and disappear from. 

 

As it turned out, Pansy was only slightly right. Narcissa was indeed heading towards the apparition-friendly point. Regulus and Pansy, however, were heading away on foot, to where, exactly, Pansy didn’t know. 

 

When questioned on their destination, Regulus simply shot her a smiled laced with a smirk, and kissed the side of her head. “Patience, baby.”

 

“Patience is not exactly in my specialist skill set,” Pansy mumbled grumpily in response to his vagueness. 

 

He feigned a look of shock, throwing the hand that wasn’t holding Pansy’s over his mouth. “Nooooo? You?” 

 

She shot him an expression of only somewhat pretend annoyance and refused the kiss he attempted to place upon her lips. 

 

“I don’t think so,” he said, laughing. Stopping, Pansy couldn’t help but smile despite her attempted strop as he placed his palms on either side of her face, and pulled his own in close, planting the kiss on her mouth she had seconds before declined. Rolling her eyes, she failed, yet again, to hide her smile. 

 

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” 

 

“Nope,” Regulus replied happily as they began to walk again. 

 

Where they were, in fact, heading, turned out to be first to a Muggle delicatessen - “Don’t tell my mother,” Regulus had said with a snort, to pick up something for lunch, and then to a secluded park, which housed a river, several species of wildflower and copious amounts of privacy thanks to a number of large trees. They settled on the riverbank and, although she had rarely been one for picnics since the age of perhaps ten, Pansy had to admit it felt as close to perfect as she could imagine. 

 

At first they ate, and then they laughed....and Pansy forgot, temporarily, about everything bar how much she loved him. 

 

The subjects that should have been taboo, and the questions that ought to have been difficult, with them, simply weren’t. 

 

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I think if I found a way to defect where I felt confident I  _ might  _ not get blasted to shit, then yeah...I think I would.”

 

Their silences were never awkward and their topics of conversation felt, at times, as easily flowing as the river they sat beside.

 

She noticed, as she was talking, relaying a particular anecdote about the time a tiny owl had found its way into the Slytherin common room and defecated all over Daphne’s head, that Regulus was watching her, more intently than he needed, his eyes roaming over her, paying particular attention to her hair. 

 

“What?” she asked, a slight shift in her conscious rendered her suddenly overcome with a shyness she wasn’t used to.

 

“Your hair,” he began, “it shifts colour in the sunlight, it’s almost very dark blue.”

 

“Oh yeah, I know...it’s kind of weird.”

 

“It’s beautiful.” 

 

This time when he leaned in to kiss her, she wouldn’t have dreamed of refusing.

 

Her hands found their way around the back of his neck just as his arms reached around the small of her back. Pulling her not as gently as he could, Pansy found herself on top of Regulus, her thighs straddling his. The soft moan she let out was met perfectly in turn by his own. 

 

Never having really been one for public displays of affection, let alone public displays of affection in broad daylight that were emulating their most intimate moments, Pansy found herself relatively comfortable with their actions, caring not, and in fact, rather enjoying the fact that in the moment someone could come across them at any given moment. 

 

“Want me to cast a Muggle repelling charm?” Regulus whispered against Pansy’s lips. 

 

Her hands had removed themselves from his neck, moved southwards and were hastily in the process of undoing each button on Regulus’s shirt. “No.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Leaning back, Pansy crossed her arms over her stomach and in one swift motion pulled her own top above her head. The brief widening of his eyes wasn’t missed by her and she winked before leaning into him once more. “Yeah, I’m sure.” She let out a soft giggle as she placed her lips, repeatedly, on the side of his neck. 

 

“My girlfriend, the exhibitionist, ladies and gents,” Regulus replied to a non-existent crowd. 

 

“You love it.”

 

Hissing briefly as Pansy’s latest kiss turned into a sharp bite, Regulus’s hands were pushing their way underneath her bra. “I do,” he agreed, “and you.”

 

“I love you too,” she groaned, pressing her chest into his hands. 

 

“You sure about this?” 

 

Instead of answering, Pansy simply shifted her hips, grinding the crotch of her jeans against the crotch of his trousers. 

 

She felt him smile against her mouth. “Alright then.” Before Pansy had a moment to register his next move, she was pulled downwards and in an instant, her back was pressed against the grass below and Regulus was now on top of her, his bare chest flush against hers, even more so with her legs snaking their way around his waist.

 

His lips eventually moved away from her own and began to focus on her chest and stomach, sitting up she wiggled her bottom enough so that her jeans could be removed, and a mere second later she gasped as Regulus nipped her inner thigh without warning.  

 

“Baby…” 

 

She said the word more than once, repeating it breathlessly like a mantra, unable to articulate much else as Regulus busied his mouth against her most sensitive point. When she came it was in an exhilarating rush, hastily followed by lovemaking that followed the same pattern.

  
A short while later, when the sun began to set, but yet they remained, clothes  _ mostly  _ returned to their bodies, Pansy leant back, her back to his chest, encased on either side by both his legs, his arms wrapped entirely around her and the nape of her neck tingling with the covering of soft kisses he had given it. She realised that  _ this _ , even when she knew time was borrowed and would ultimately fly away from her, this moment, in this afternoon, was somehow both far too short lived and simultaneously, her entire past, present - whenever that was, and future. Even if the latter was an impossibility...somehow, it still was.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I had not intended for them to have sex in a random park when I sat down to write this chapter but there ya go.


	29. A Truly Impossible Position

Upon entering the Manor after their impromptu shenanigans in the Islington park, Pansy and Regulus were greeted by a rather haunted and agitated looking Narcissa. 

 

“Oh, thank heavens! Where have you both  _ been? _ ”

 

Pansy felt Regulus shift beside her. “I’m not sure you really want to know that, dear cousin,” he said with a soft chuckle. 

 

Narcissa shot him a look that Pansy would have been proud of. It screamed  _ Shut the hell up  _ and instantly worked wonders as she felt Regulus altogether stiffen, his snigger hanging in the air, unfinished. Fighting the sudden urge to laugh, Pansy forced her lips to stay poised together and focussed her attention on Narcissa. “Everything okay?”

 

“It is most definitely  _ not  _ okay. Well, perhaps it is. I don’t know!” Narcissa’s arms were flung haphazardly into the air along with her nonsensical answer. “I don’t need  _ you,”  _ she snapped at Regulus as she clamped one hand over Pansy’s forearm. “Pansy, come with me!”

 

Only able to glance back briefly, Pansy shot Regulus the quickest of shrugs as she was hauled, rather ungraciously down the corridor.

 

“Oh charming,” Regulus called, “I’ll just hang out by myself, shall I?”

 

Narcissa didn’t even grant him a backwards glance as she cried, “I don’t care what you do!”

 

Leading them down several corridors and up a flight of stairs, the two women eventually reached Narcissa’s intended destination: she and Lucius’s en suite.

 

“Umm…”

 

“Pansy!” Narcissa’s eyes were once again wild and more icy than usual. “I don’t know what to do!”

 

“Okay...about what, exactly?”

 

Reaching into a nearby drawer, Narcissa pulled forth a small vial of bright purple liquid, and this time it was Pansy’s turn to widen her eyes. 

 

“Holy shit!”

 

“Yes!” Narcissa squeaked, “Holy shit, indeed!”

 

Their exclamations were, albeit unknown to Narcissa, for entirely different reasons. Pansy swallowed slowly, unable to wrench her gaze from the swirling purple liquid. Was this her...fault? Doing? Had she unknowingly changed something so drastically?

 

“Have you told Lucius?”

 

Shaking her head, Narcissa sunk into a nearby stool. “I’ve only known a few hours. You’re the only one who knows.”

 

Not quite willing to bring herself to say the obvious  _ Congratulations,  _ Pansy, blinking slowly, replied, “How do you...feel?”

 

Her response was expected but caused a lurch in Pansy’s stomach, nonetheless. “I...I’m not sure...happy, I suppose.” Narcissa stared down at the small vial. “You said your friend’s  _ mother  _ gave you the Time-Turner, and obviously I worked out I was said mother, but I still didn’t quite believe it. Until now, I suppose.”

 

Pansy let in a steady draw of breath. Yes, Draco had indeed given her the Turner. But she had, not long upon arrival, worked out exactly when Narcissa would fall pregnant with what would become one of her best friends. 

 

And it shouldn’t have been yet. 

 

Providing the timeline  _ hadn’t  _ changed, and Pansy definitely did not want to consider that it had, and somehow her presence had altered Draco’s entrance into the world, which it definitely shouldn’t have according to the rule that everything that had happened had already happened, this pregnancy would not result in the birth of Draco Malfoy.

 

* * *

  
  


The had returned downstairs shortly after, and Narcissa, now much more composed had excitedly exclaimed to Regulus that he owed her a  _ Congratulations  _ and a pair of booties. 

 

Pansy watched the cousins embrace as Regulus offered his best wishes and the genuine smiles that passed between the pair, and suddenly felt the urge to vomit. Feigning a migraine, Pansy retired to her bedroom and not even undressing, climbed beneath her covers and sobbed. Sobbed for Narcissa, for Regulus, for the fact that this whole messy scenario made her miss Draco so much her chest physically hurt all over again, and partly she sobbed, selfishly, for the sheer unfairness that she was placed, against her will, in such a truly impossible position. 

 

Not long, but long enough for her to have calmed down somewhat, Pansy heard a soft knock on the door, and Regulus’s floppy hair presented itself. 

 

“Want a cuddle?” he offered, accompanying the words with a dopey smile. 

 

Pansy simply nodded in response and nestled her face against him as he climbed into the bed beside her. Carefully, he positioned himself with Pansy’s head resting gently on his chest. “Want to tell me about it?”

 

“Yes...but I don’t know if I should.”

 

“A problem shared and all that.”

 

It didn’t take her long to deliberate that since she clearly wasn’t handling the secret particularly well alone, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt too much to share the truth that pained her heart.  _ This truth _ , anyway. 

 

“You know how I know Narcissa’s child...in the future?”

 

She felt his fingertips gently brushing her hair.“Yeah, baby.”

 

“I worked out the dates for when he’ll be born...and it’s not quite nine months from now...she shouldn’t be pregnant with him for another two and half months, give or take.”

 

Her admission was met mostly with silence. 

 

Eventually, his fingers still busied with her hair, he answered. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah...oh.”

 

“Do you think you should tell her?”

 

“How on earth can I tell her that?”

 

“I have no idea.” He kissed the top of her head. “And there’s no way…”

 

“No way...I’ve known Draco’s birthday for most of my life.”   
  


In spite of himself, and the situation, Regulus snorted. “Draco? That’s...different.”

 

“Says you,” she teased. 

 

Regulus happens to be the brightest star in the constellation of Leo,” Regulus relayed smugly. 

 

“Draco is a whole constellation,” Pansy pointed out. 

 

“Well, I suppose...better than being named after type of weed, anyway.” 

 

“Excuse me! Pansies are  _ flowers,  _ you useless ball of gas!”

 

Sniggering quietly, Regulus began to rise. “Come on.”

 

“Come on what?”

 

“I think, right now, all we can do is be there for her, whatever that entails. So let’s go be there.”

 

She answered him first with a kiss, touched by his thoughtfulness at his cousin’s situation...a situation said cousin had no idea was even a cause for worry. “I love you, you useless ball of gas”

  
He pulled himself, and her, from the bed and pressed his lips briefly to hers. “Love you too, Weed.”

  
  
  
  



	30. Tomorrow Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if it has been a hot minute...but in my defence I ONLY HAD A FREAKING BABY...I'm hoping to get my teeth stuck back into this story again now my other sprog is almost back at school and I might actually have some routine in my life again...maybe. One can hope.
> 
> Anyway enjoy, and don't hate me too much for the teasing end...

The next few weeks were some of Pansy’s hardest. Both Regulus and Lucius were called away on Voldemort’s business a hell of a lot, and Narcissa was...emotional.

 

Overly so.

 

All the older witch wished to speak of was the pregnancy. All Pansy wished to speak of was anything but. And, for the first time since she arrived in this time, Pansy felt something that was less than a fallout, but more than a slight awkwardness between the two. The past was beginning to feel like a lonely place to be. She wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ feel happy about the pregnancy but in truth simply did not know how to address the issue, knowing that any way she informed Narcissa that a pregnancy at this time was not meant, would go down in a similar fashion to a lead balloon.

 

And Narcissa herself, of course, couldn’t understand Pansy’s lack of enthusiasm to the news and begun to warily regard Pansy as though rethinking their entire friendship. Which, Pansy supposed gloomily, she probably was.

 

It was in those weeks she missed Draco the most. And Daphne. And Blaise and Theo and Millicent. Even Crabbe and Goyle, certainly not two of her favourite people, for some unknown reason. So caught up in Regulus and Narcissa that Pansy hadn’t allowed herself too much in the way of reminiscing about the future, all things considered. She had made up for that, however, finding herself more often than she cared to admit having to take herself to what would become Draco’s bedroom. One of many guest rooms at present, one day it would, she hoped with a gulp, be filled with Slytherin crests, Quidditch memorabilia and trinkets far too grand and expensive for one so young to understand the significance of. A telescope would one day stand, proudly, by the window seat Pansy was currently sitting upon. A star chart would grace the wall just above her head to accompany to the instrument. Just to her left a large mahogany bookcase would be filled with several books and tombs, many of which Draco wouldn’t so much as even open.

  
The only one, or _thing,_ that seemed to somehow understand, was the Time-Turner. And Pansy _hated_ the way it emitted a constant, dull vibration whenever she picked it up. Which, since it made its way into her pockets, waistband and even underwear whenever it saw fit, was often.

“You have a _big_ problem with respecting personal space,” Pansy grumbled as she hauled the chain, ungraciously, from her skirt. Had she ever considered the possibility of a portable, almost undetectable _vibrating_ object placing itself next to Pansy’s unmentionables, she mightn’t have thought the idea too unappealing. The reality, however, felt something of a violation and she told the Turner as much in a series of mumbled expletives. “…and I would appreciate it if you just left. Me. Alone. Thank you _very much!_ ”

Pansy flung the Turner, haphazardly, atop her dresser before sinking onto her bedcovers.   

“What has my life become?” she asked no one.

“It sometimes takes a series of wrong turns to end up in the right place,” her mirror answered.

Pansy snorted. _Who asked you?_

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until three full, lonely weeks of not much more than nothingness had passed that Pansy was delivered a small glimmer of something not full of hopelessness.

It arrived in the form of a small box, delivered, somewhat grumpily, by a large grey owl, whose hoot was so low Pansy had half wondered whether a large cow was mooing outside her bedroom window.

The mooing owl’s left leg had presented her with a box, no larger than a matchbox, wrapped delicately in silver paper and tied with a ribbon so black and sparkly it appeared as though it was cut from the night sky itself.

Delicately, Pansy detached the small box from the owl and flipped over a small tag placed beneath the ribbon.

The tag had only two words scrawled across it. _Enlarge me._

Pansy absentmindedly granted the owl - who, on further inspection, Pansy had decided she rather liked, a gentle pat on the head as he prepared to take off through the open window and did as the note instructed.

“Woah!” Instantaneously, the box began to grow at an alarming rate, the sheer size of the thing would have covered half her desk. Stumbling slightly, Pansy placed the ginormous box atop her bed, curiosity now incredibly piqued.

Carefully, still entirely enamoured with the ribbon which, on closer inspection, the specs of glitter on were charmed to twinkle exactly as real stars would, she untied it, determined not to damage the material in anyway. The lid of the box came off easily and Pansy blinked, enthralled, at the box’s contents.  

The inside was lined with a delicate tissue paper, coloured a lighter grey than the outside, atop of which were several delicately placed objects.

A note, written on creamy parchment and positioned in the centre of the other items, drew her attention first. The parchment was rolled up tightly and fastened with wax pressed with the Black family seal. _So official,_ Pansy thought with a brief rolling of her eyes.

The parchment contained all of four words, and Pansy smiled harder as she read each individual one, before rolling the note back up, and placing it to the side.

Turning her attention back towards the remaining contents of the box, Pansy brought her hands forward and brought forth a very beautiful, and she’d venture a very expensive, dress. It wasn’t grey like the box, or black like the ribbon, but a deep emerald green and embroidered with stones that somehow shone brighter than most others she’d ever seen, and yet were entirely subtle, woven into the fabric so seamlessly they could have simply been a part of the very strands of the material. Holding the dress at each side, Pansy held up the fabric over the front of her body and moved to hold it in front of her mirror. It already looked made just for her. The length just brushed the floor and the hemline looked as though it would sit sweeping in a wide oval a few inches below her collarbone. It would just brush her shoulders, and she knew would skim her body _just right_.

Sighing, in such an un-Pansy-like manner, Pansy allowed herself a few further minutes of admiration before placing the dress even more carefully than she had the ribbon, over the back of a chair.

The rest of the box’s contents included several pieces of jewellery, ranging from utterly exquisite to subtly understated necklaces, earrings and bracelets, and a further note from Regulus stating he _didn’t know which she’d prefer,_ clearly he’d picked any and all, a few pairs of shoes, all of which Pansy would have bet a great deal of money on that someone had assisted him in deciding which would suit the dress. All four pairs were brand new, designer and most likely heinously expensive. There was also a small selection of bags that Pansy eyed greedily.

Lastly, wrapped in further tissue, was a matching set of underwear, _clearly no choice in this,_ Pansy thought with a soft smile as she touched the soft green lace, smugly imagining the expression she knew he’d wear when he was to see her wearing the pieces.

It ought to have been too much, that’s what she told herself anyway. No doubt a girl like Granger would have turned her nose up at the sheer expense the items he’d gifted her with would have cost. Pansy, however, had a smile so wide it rivalled the size of the gift box and she let out an unorthodox _squee_ of delight, promptly throwing the t-shirt she was currently donning over her head, a diamond necklace in one hand and a silver stiletto in the other.

The note was cast into the air at her enthusiastic gestures and fell, moving softly from side to side as it did.

_Tomorrow night_

_You’re mine_  



	31. Strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Frumpologist, whose binging gave me life.

In hindsight, had she thought about it enough she would have most likely realised that gliding down the stairs, clad in the finery Regulus,  _ her  _ Regulus, had gifted her, whilst the wizard in question waited at the bottom for her, wearing - she thought with a grumble,  _ that velvet bloody jacket again,  _ made her look a bit of a tit. At the time though, Pansy couldn’t care, feeling (and being covered in, probably literally) a million galleons would do that to a girl. 

 

A large, silver-framed mirror was placed halfway down the stairs, positioned just so that she was able to steal one further brief glance at herself before she met him for whatever the evening he had planned held. 

 

_ Even I’d do me,  _ she thought with a satisfied smirk, before she took the final few steps down, to a waiting - and clearly enamoured, Regulus. 

 

_ Oh bloody hell the velvet jacket is back _

 

“Miss Parkinson,” he held out his arm, much to Pansy’s amusement. “You look breathtaking.” 

 

She regarded him for a moment, her eyes holding his, before accepting his gesture. “Do put your tongue  _ back _ in your mouth, Mr Black.”  _ And whilst you’re at it set fire to that jacket. _ She replied aloofly as she allowed him to steer the pair towards the dining room. “Most undignified.” 

 

“I can think of somewhere else I could put it.”

 

Pansy clutched at a necklace of imaginary pearls. “Mr Black!” She exclaimed with a mocking gasp, “that is preposterous language to use around an upstanding, coy witch such as myself.”

 

They had almost reached the dining room, the only apparition point within the house, and Pansy frowned, surprised when they walked past the door entirely. Evidently, they were heading towards the front door of the Manor.  _ Odd.. _

 

“It’s a good thing you are a neither upstanding, nor coy then, isn’t it?”

 

“I am  _ most  _ insulted, I happen to be very coy.” 

 

“You couldn’t spell ‘coy’,” Regulus replied with a snort as they reached the front door. 

 

What awaited outside was further insults, this time directed at Regulus, and a smart looking Muggle car. It looked to Pansy, of course, old-fashioned, the type of car stuffy, rich Muggles from her time would have collected. But this wasn’t her time, and in  _ this  _ time she guessed this car was the most exquisite money could buy. Not that she had any way to know what the  _ Bentley  _ embossed on the rear meant. 

 

She cocked her head and looked at him. “You are full of surprises.”

 

His reply came first in the form of a wink that somehow, despite him having no more physical contact with her than the innocent grasp her hand had on his forearm, sent a bolt of  _ something _ directly between her legs. 

 

He rose one eyebrow and opened the back door. “After you.” 

 

Inside the car a driver she didn’t recognise tipped his hat at her and she scooted across the long leather back seat, Regulus climbing in after her.

 

As it transpired, the car had some kind of divider that separated the front seats from the back, and no sooner than they pulled away from Malloy Manor, Regulus demonstrated it’s usage, rendering them, effectively, alone. 

 

Her eyebrow rose in turn to match his. “And here was me actually wondering why we weren’t just apparating.”   
  
“Just thought you might enjoy the journey, the scenery is rather nice at sunset, you see.”

 

Pansy’s eyebrow was still raised as the car began to move, its engine quietly purring as it made its way down the long driveway. “Does your mother know you’ve hired a Muggle car to take your girlfriend on a date?” 

 

“My mother doesn’t even know I have a girlfriend,” he leaned in closer to her, his lips could have brushed against hers with just one more centimetre, “you dirty little secret.”

 

“Please, if anyone here is the secret it’s you, I have to come to a different decade to hide you away.” 

 

He  let out a brief snort of laughter, before catching her lips briefly with his own. “I also didn’t rent the car, it’s mine, but no, my mother doesn’t know about it either.”

 

Pansy blinked in surprise and looked around the interior of the vehicle for the first time. The closest she’d come to travelling in such a fashion was one short memory of her mother screaming at a bemused Knight Bus attendant. Pansy was used to portkeys and apparition, not motorcars. She did note, however, that the car’s movements were substantially less jerky and unpredictable than the Knight Bus’s, and in fact Pansy imagined she’d find it easy to forget they were moving at all. “This is yours?”

 

“Sure is,” he replied after a further two kisses. 

 

“Interesting.”

 

“I really am,” he replied as his hands began to roam over her satin-clad body.

 

* * *

 

 

Their destination, it transpired, involved a vast expanse of grass, a clifftop, and a seemingly endless night sky. 

 

“Cheers, Jon,” Regulus shook the driver’s hand, before the top hat-clad gentleman bowed to both Pansy and Regulus before apparating away.

 

Pansy frowned. “How are we going to get back?”

 

“I’ll be driving back.”

 

“Then why the fuck did you need someone to drive us here?”

 

“Oh, I just wanted to get it on with my smoking hot girlfriend in the backseat.” Regulus walked to the back of the vehicle, as Pansy couldn’t contain the short laugh that escaped her at his answer, and opened a strange, rather large compartment. He pulled a bottle of champagne, two glasses and a blanket. “Confused?” he asked, his voice casual, and carefree. Not that he sounded particularly troubled normally, but there seemed to be a refreshing nuisance to his voice that suggested any troubles that he carried had been left somewhere on the journey to wherever  _ here  _ was.    
  
“A little.” 

 

“Don’t worry, we’re still going to a horribly overpriced restaurant where a myriad of sleazy Muggle businessmen will most likely undress you with their eyes a thousand times over. “Come here,” he offered, he had jumped onto the front of the car and began to pop the champagne. 

 

Joining him, Pansy couldn’t help but feel more intrigue to the man she realised she probably didn’t know as well as she’d perhaps thought.  _ But really,  _ she deliberated,  _ there’s still so much he doesn’t even know about me. _

 

It seemed that Regulus had had a similar thought process, and his words confirmed her suspicions. “I want to know everything about you, Pansy Parkinson.”

 

“We already did that, don’t you remember?” Pansy replied with a smile, remembering the first night she’d arrived in this time, when she and Regulus had exchanged answers to a variety of questions, they’re company being only each other and Lucius’s finest whisky. It was, in reality, only around two months prior, but to Pansy it could easily have been years since that night she had first felt anything,  _ everything?  _ for him.

 

“I fell in love with you then,” Regulus informed her, lying back against the front windscreen, his right arm outstretched to his side and Pansy followed suit, positioning her neck atop the crook of his elbow. “That night, you were so-”

 

“I was a mess,” Pansy interjected, grimacing at the way she’d burst into tears in front of him, prompting the first time she felt his arms around her. She hadn’t wanted him to let go then, not really, she knew. And now if having her own way was possible she’d never allow him to let go of her. 

 

“Strong,” Regulus countered. “You were so strong.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“No, I’m serious. Breaking down doesn’t make you weak in any way, it just means everything is too much at that moment, nothing less. You’ve been flung twenty years in the past, keeping everything together, helping me heal when he attacked me, being there for Narcissa despite what you know, not many people would be mentally able to deal with the headfuck. You’ve handled all this with the type of strength I doubt many Death Eaters have.”

 

“I-I don’t-”

 

“You’re  _ strong,  _ Pansy. You’re amazing It’s why I love you.”

 

She wasn’t sure, exactly, when her tears had appeared. He had no idea that the true test of Pansy’s strength was yet to come. He knew she’d have to leave him, of course, but he didn’t know the extent of what that meant. 

 

And he didn’t know that she had no idea how she couldn’t even  _ think  _ of the reality of their situation without her breath leaving her a rasping mess upon whichever floor she happened to be standing on at the time, her hand clasped to her mouth whilst she prayed it was enough to stifle the dry sobs. 

 

Pansy didn’t feel very strong. She felt terribly small and weak. 

 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hit me today just how close I am to being done with this story...I don't know how I'll say goodbye to Pansy and Regulus' story, I really don't.


	32. Nothing I Like

.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!**

 

* * *

 

 

If someone had told her, even this morning, that she’d be sitting in the front seat of a Muggle car whilst watching, with earnest, Regulus in his absolute element, she’d have most likely snorted in derision, turned on her heel and believed them mad. But somehow that was exactly where she found herself now. After a wink, which - again, left her with a pleasant and desperate tingling sensation down below, and a seventies sober up potion, he revved the engine - something he seemed to enjoy doing, and drove them in what Pansy assumed was the direction of London.

They’d lain on the front of the car - which Pansy had learned was called the ‘bonnet’, and not, as she’d guessed - much to Regulus’s amusement, ‘the nose’, for the better part of two hours. And now, well now she wanted to sigh, and cry, and, though she’d _never_ admit it to anyone, swoon in equal measure.

He didn’t just like cars, he _loved_ cars, and had rented out a garage for the past year and a half that he’d converted into a full workshop where he worked not just on impressive, heinously expensive models, but ones he’d described as ‘old bangers’, aterm Pansy found equally amusing and endearing when said from Regulus’s lips. He’d even taught himself how to fix motorcycles. His eyes had softened and moved away from Pansy, to the sky, at the admission. The reason being, and Pansy suspected perhaps a rather large part of the reason for his hobby as a whole, was because it made him feel connected, somewhat, to his brother - who loved motorbikes as much as Regulus loved cars.

She knew it was his greatest fear - to not make up with his brother, and, sadly, she knew that fear would likely come to pass. The thought made her feel nauseous, and so she pushed it from the forefront of her mind the best she could.

The hotel he pulled up in front of was just as he’d described - heinously extravagant. There was even a man in place at the door whose job seemed to be, much to Pansy’s confusion, to park people’s cars for them.

“Why can’t you just park yourself?” Pansy hissed, bemused, as she watched Regulus, who was sporting an annoyingly smug expression, toss his keys in the air at the awaiting man.

Once more he extended his arm, prompting Pansy to place her hand upon it, and shrugged. “I’ve no idea, but it’s just what you do.”

“It’s weird.”

The door leading to the restaurant was over to the left of the entrance, but Regulus steered them first towards the reception desk, requesting, much to Pansy’s surprise, the key to a clearly already booked room.

“Well well Mr Black, full of surprises again.”

“I try, Miss Parkinson, I try.”

  


* * *

 

 

Their dinner passed without much incident, other than Pansy continually running her fingertips very gently across Regulus’s thigh, and Regulus himself muttering a manner of sexual promises and plans in Pansy’s ear. By the time they made it to the room, after a hasty ‘No, thank you,’ to any offer of dessert, the pair were positively electric with want for each other, and fairly intoxicated from the rather copious amounts of champagne they had consumed. The room itself was far too large, far too extravagant and probably cost far too much. Pansy turned, having stopped to admire a gold plated mirror, and faced Regulus.

“This room is-”

“Ridiculous? Over the top? ...dramatic” Regulus offered, failing to reign in the smile that was creeping the sides of his mouth upwards, “yes, I agree. That’s why I booked it.” Pansy narrowed her eyes as he continued. “It suits my ridiculous, over the top, dramatic girlfriend.”

Pansy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and breathing deeply. “You’re a pain in the arse, Regulus Black.”

“I’m _your_ pain in the arse, Miss Parkinson,” he corrected.

She narrowed her eyes once more and turned away from him before making her way towards a promising looking cupboard, built into a nearby wall. Opening the door she let out a sigh of contentment at the sight. “Drink?”

“I’d love one,” she heard from somewhere not quite as far behind her as she had anticipated, and realised with a quick glance that Regulus had moved closer to her, on further inspection, after she had taken one beer and one half-bottle of wine from the minibar, Regulus had taken his jacket off and slung the garment haphazardly over the back of a nearby chair.

“Thank Merlin for that,” she exclaimed, eying the jacket with an air of suspicion, half expecting it to insult her back.  

Regulus took the offered beer and snorted a laugh. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s awful,” Pansy retorted. “All velvet jackets ought to die a very painful death.”

Kicking his shoes off, Regulus didn’t reply and simply chuckled to himself as he walked around to the bed, a large, four poster affair with thick mahogany posts at each corner, and quickly hopped atop the covers, lounging back against the pillows as he raised one eyebrow at the silently watching Pansy.

“Comfy?” she asked, raising her own eyebrow to perfectly match his own expression.

“Very...but, it’s a very large bed, and I’m only one man. I can see it becoming a bit lonely.”

Pansy, after busying herself pouring her wine into a nearby glass, took a sip. “Can you now?”

“You wouldn’t want me to become lonely, would you?”

“You could invite your jacket to join you, I’m sure it’d be more than happy to accompany you,” Pansy replied dryly as she deliberately took a seat in a chair that was conveniently situated by her right thigh. From her position, on the chair, she could have easily reached out and touched the edge of the bed. It was the perfect height, Pansy soon realised, to place one stiletto-clad foot on the edge of the covers, the bottom of the shoe resting easily on the corner of the duvet-covered mattress.

She watched Regulus intently, at first he shifted his torso upwards slightly, enabling him to take a sip of beer, before he lowered himself once more back onto the pillows. After loosening his tie, leaving it to hang, entirely undone, draping on each side of her shirt buttons, he deposited the beer on a bedside table and crossed his arms behind his head all the while his eyes refusing to leave Pansy.

Moving her leg over sideways, Pansy took another drink of her wine, very much aware that the movement left what lay up her dress almost entirely exposed to him. Lounging back against the chair’s back, Pansy swallowed her mouthful of wine and allowed a quiet sigh to emanate from the back of her throat. Glancing at Regulus, Pansy couldn’t help but smirk at the way his eyes flickered back and forth between her own, and her indecently wide open legs. Her own eyes focussed intently upon his own, and, after one more drink and the depositing of her nearly empty glass on a nearby surface, she bit down on her bottom lip, hard, and allowed her hand to move ever so slightly over her own thigh.

Regulus’ looked  as though he were about to speak, but seemed to quickly change his mind, his lips closing as quickly as they had opened as he swallowed, and instead he clearly opted to watch Pansy take the lead, and take, she intended to.

Standing in what should have been one fluid motion, Pansy realised the wine, and quite possibly the number of drinks they had consumed at dinner - not to mention the champagne from earlier, had apparently now decided to affect her gross motor skills, and it took two more attempts to successfully navigate her way from the chair to the end of the bed.

Trying her best to compose herself, Pansy pointed one long, manicured finger towards Regulus, before turning her hand over and using the same index finger to beckon, slowly, him towards her.

His brow furrowed slightly at her silent request, but Regulus got onto his knees without a word and crawled, somewhat awkwardly, considering he too was apparently struggling to remain anything resembling sober, up the bed towards the waiting Pansy.

His hands met either side of her waist as he positioned himself, still kneeling but resting back against his calves, and Pansy’s own palms found their way to his shoulders, her nails gripping into him as she began to sashay her hips. She had no music, but somehow she didn’t need any, as an alcohol-induced confidence overtook her body and she moved more freely, placing her face mere millimetres from his, only to back away when she felt him lean in to kiss her, smirking as she felt his hands hold her waist tighter at the teasing.

Leaving the hold she had on his shoulders, Pansy moved her hands inwards, at first gripping each end of his still hanging open tie, using it as leverage she pulled herself into him once more and this time she did allow him to kiss her. What she hadn’t banked on, however, was for the chaste, fleeting, even more teasing-fuelled kiss she had planned, to be held in place, as Regulus leaned forward and held the back of her head, holding her still as his lips, and then tongue, moved with hers.

“You cheated,” Pansy eventually gasped, pulling away and immediately busying herself with undoing the buttons of Regulus’ shirt.

“Hmm,” Regulus hummed with a grin, “you seemed like you enjoyed it.”

Pansy shrugged. “It was okay,” she lied with a coy smile.

“Really? Just okay?”

“Just okay,” Pansy repeated, before gasping in shock as, quick as a flash, one of Regulus’s hands left the back of her head and slipped below her dress, where she felt it brush against her underwear.

“Liar,” he hissed, clearly delighted. Pansy barely heard him, however, as the far too gentle movements his fingertips were now making were causing a pleasing, fluttering sensation down below.

“Ohhhh,” she breathed, closing her eyes and blindly moving her head forward, desperate to feel his lips on hers again as his fingers began to move with more veracity. Her arms snaked around his neck as she wrestled his tongue with her own, caring not that her initial plan had been flung aside for now, and grinded her hips in time with the movements his hand was making both up and dow, and then rotating just where she needed them to in a tantalising pattern of pleasing sensations.

It didn’t take long, far shorter than Pansy would have liked anyway, for her orgasm to crash over her, and she all but screamed against his chest, where her head had somehow ended up despite her having no recollection of stopping kissing him. It took her a good few seconds of heavy breathing before she felt confident her legs wouldn’t give up on her and send her crashing to the floor.  
  
“That was most counterproductive to my plan,” Pansy scorned, much to Regulus’ apparent amusement, considering the grin that was now present on his face.

“I’m dreadfully sorry,” he held both of his hands up in mock defeat.

“Good, you should be,” Pansy informed him, before moving her hand into a shoo-ing motion. “Now go lie back up there, _clearly_ you can’t be trusted down here.”

Both of Regulus’ eyebrows rose upwards. “Yes, ma’am.”

Watching as Regulus positioned himself sitting upright against the back pillows, Pansy waited until he was sitting entirely still before beginning, once more, to sashay her hips and forth, this time she reached back and took hold of the zip of her dress, she pulled the small piece of metal downwards in one swift motion. Moving her body this way and that, the beautiful green dress crumpled to the floor in a most undignified heap, leaving her in only her bra, the now rather uncomfortably damp knickers, and fishnet stockings.

“Woah…”

“Now,” Pansy bored her eyes into his, daring him to refrain from greedily roaming them over her body. “See anything you like, Mr Black.”

She’d never admit how much his reply momentarily through her. “No.”

Keeping her cool, Pansy raised an eyebrow as she tried to force the rapidly depreciating self doubt to dissipate. “I’m sorry...no?”

“There’s nothing I _like,_ because everything there...here,” and for a briefest of moments his eyes burned not with hunger, but with something else, “I _love.”_

  


 

 

 

 


	33. Do Time-Turners Get Bored?

Pansy awoke with a groan, a headache, and a very prominent ache that manifested itself in her pelvis the very second she moved her legs an inch.

 

Disentangling herself from all four of Regulus’s bare limbs, Pansy exclaimed as the ache worsened. “Nnargh!”  
  
She heard a deep croak, which sounded vaguely similar to, “I beg your pardon,” exclaim from behind her.

 

“Ugh,” Pansy croaked in return. “I can’t move my legs! You ruined me!”

 

She could _feel_ his smirk as his fingertips brushed up and down her spine. “Yeah, I did.” His tone was void of any semblance of sympathy.

 

“Ugh!” she repeated, beginning a most painful and strenuous trip to the bathroom.

 

Upon her return, she was surprised to find the bed empty and a now rather frazzled looking Regulus no longer in the unclothed state Pansy was expecting, and disappointingly almost fully clothed.   
  
She didn’t need to question his actions. “For fuck’s sake!”   
  
He crossed the room in a few short steps and placed his palms upon her shoulders. “I’m sorry, baby.”

 

Pansy let out a sigh that came as more of a whine and allowed herself momentarily to fall forward against him, where he held her in place for far, far shorter than she would have liked, and after one barely lingering kiss, an apologetic ‘I love you’, a twirl of darker than black robes and the crack of apparition, he was gone and Pansy was alone.

 

Alone, naked, turned on and hungry. It wasn’t an appealing mix.

 

Silently, she padded her way back towards the bed, taking a swift detour to a small nearby table to retrieve what appeared to be a room service menu, deciding she may at least resolve one of her current predicaments.

 

She decided to spend the rest of the morning mooching around London, after transfiguring and probably ruining the heinously expensive dress into something less extravagant, she took herself outside. She had no money, Muggle or otherwise, having not brought any galleons with her, but she wondered by the side of the Thames, which presented her with a nice enough backdrop, and hugged her arms across her chest as she contemplated, for what felt the thousandth time, what her purpose in this time could possibly be.

 

Her wonderings were, as always, fruitless, but provided enough of a distraction that she felt less consumed with the fact that her morning of what ought to have been some very satisfying morning sex, was now filled with nothing but her own company, a rather large river and  significantly less satisfaction.

 

Sighing through her nose, Pansy was contemplating her next move when she felt it, the soft, barely there sensation she knew was the Time-Turner. When, exactly, the Turner had decided to join her on her stroll through Muggle London, Pansy didn’t know, what she _did_ know, however, was the fact it had, was most likely now a good thing. The vibration was there, Pansy somehow instinctively knew, as a warning.

 

Within a second, the fingers on her right hand were curling around the handle of her wand as her eyes, the only part of her face she allowed to leave the forced mask of nonchalance were darting, rapidly, from one point to the next in no discernible pattern. It took far longer than she’d have liked, though in reality was a few more seconds at most, to spot the reason for the Turner’s sudden activity.

 

He was standing not twenty feet from her, leaning casually against the railing which Pansy could only assume was in place to stop stupid people wondering into the Thames, with dark eyes and a darker expression. The Turner’s vibration slowed and eventually stopped as Pansy, back straight and head high, hand still gripping her wand, walked towards him.

 

She surveyed him without speaking. In many ways, she deliberated, there wasn’t much need for any greeting, it would be far, far too great a coincidence for both she and he to be here by chance, and so she didn’t speak, instead settling on gifting him a cold, hard stare.

 

His face contorted into something that resembled amusement, much to Pansy’s annoyance.

 

“Hello,” he offered. His tone was friendly enough but Pansy didn’t miss the way his eyes had clocked her wand, just as hers had noticed his, nor did the fact he was putting the full brunt of his weight on his back foot bypass her mind, _easier to push yourself fully upright that way,_ Pansy thought to herself, _to cast an offensive spell._

 

Not particularly caring to return the pleasantries, “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice clearly laced with suspicion.

 

His response began with a snort. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

 

 _Most enlightening._ “Right.”

 

“Look,” he lifted his hands in mock surrender, his wand now tucked into his belt. “I might ask you the same question.”

 

“Why would you ask me the same question? I wasn’t the one leaning on a railing waiting for you.”

 

“I didn’t know I was waiting for _you_.”

 

“I don’t believe you.”  


His eyebrows disappeared under a mop of dark hair. He began to reach into one of the pockets of his leather jacket. “Fair enough, but I didn’t. If you must know, and I sense from your oh-so-cheery disposition that you must, I was led here by a-”

 

“OH!” she cut him off, realising that somehow, the Time-Turner wasn’t just not vibrating now, but was simply not there.

 

_Well, that’s new_

 

“A Time-Turner, of all things, and-”

 

_Or maybe not, maybe it’s been going off on adventures this entire time_

 

“Didn’t have a bloody clue how, or-”

 

_I have left it in drawers a fair amount, maybe it gets bored_

 

“But, and this is the weirdest part, it had writing on-”

 

_Do Time-Turners get bored?_

“And I’m presuming you’re the ‘her’ it referred to and-”

 

“What?” Pansy replied, bluntly, realising she had listened to very little of what he had said.

 

“Did you listen to anything I just said?”

 

“No.”

 

He blinked, clearly taken aback by her blunt honesty. “Right, well I don’t know why...” he trailed off and Pansy saw the familiar artifact between the few gaps in his fingers of the fist he held it in.

 

“I have an idea,” Pansy gritted her teeth as she scanned the area, eventually settling on a nearby cafe. “Have you got any Muggle money?”

 

“Er yeah, a bit.”

 

“Good,” she nodded towards the cafe’s door and began to walk in the same direction.

 

It took a few seconds and an audible “Argh!” which Pansy assumed was the Time-Turner giving him a strong, painful vibration to make him follow her, for him to move. His voice, when he spoke, was now rather grumpy. “Who even are you?”

 

“I’m Pansy.”

 

“Right, that really clears that up then.”

 

“Well, you did ask.”

 

“I’m fucking confused.”

 

“I’m fucking your brother.”

  
“That,” Sirius paused as they crossed the road. “I was _not_ expecting.”


End file.
